


Please, Understand

by jipseebree



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anorexia, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Crying, Dark!AuntMay, Depression, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, Fainting, Gen, Gun Violence, How Do I Tag, Hurt, Hurt Peter Parker, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Injury, Manipulation, Mental Instability, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Poor Peter Parker, Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Recreational Drug Use, References to Depression, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sickfic, Starvation, Suicide, Tags Are Hard, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Triggers, Vomiting, What Have I Done, im sorry, of a minor character!, please read the tags, read the tags!!, sensitive peter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-04-17 01:44:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 53,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14177847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jipseebree/pseuds/jipseebree
Summary: When Aunt May discovers that he's Spider-Man, something inside her snaps. She starts to abuse him and he deserves it doesn't he? After all, people have died because of him. People who would't have died if he was a better hero.This fic can also be found in Chinese by the same title!*READ THE TAGS PEOPLE!*





	1. The Silence

 

Chapter 1: Silence

SUNDAY

"What the  _FUCK_?"

Peter swiveled around so quickly, it would’ve resulted in whiplash had it been any faster. There, standing in his doorway, stood Aunt May dressed in her blue checkered apron. Her eyes were just as wide as his, as shock swirled within them.

 

May looked him up and down, taking in the sight of him. All the hard work of keeping this- for lack of a better word- absolute  _mess_ of a secret concealed, endless months of hiding and living in fear of discovery; all being unraveled right in a single moment in front of his eyes.Her face  warped from shock to anger and she slammed his bedroom door shut with a loud _bang_.

 

Peter was shaken from his shock as the neighbors angrily knocked on the walls, telling them to keep it down. A baby began to cry next door and the sound was jarred him into action as he quickly opened the door and ran into the living room still dressed in his Spider Man suit.

 

"I can't believe this. Oh my god." May muttered, pacing in angry circles with her hands on her face.

"May-" Peter began.

"No." May interrupted firmly. "No, Peter. You don't get to do this to me! I did not  _raise_  you like this!" 

Then she muttered to herself. "You're not him _._ No, You can't be _._ "

"But...I am. I help people," He tried.

"You risk your life,  _our_ life, of – of _normalcy_! Of  _anything_  being normal after Ben. Of even being close to normal." she said hysterically.

"But apparently you can't even do that."

"So, what? Your saying I'm not  _normal_?" Peter began to get angry.

"No, Peter! You're not! You go trapezing out there in your pajamas-"

"Hey! They're not  _pajamas._ " Peter exclaimed in miffed tone.

"Peter. That's not the _point_. I know you're more responsible than this!" her tone then turned pleading.

"You– you go to bed on time, and do your homework, you get good grades. _That's_ the Peter I know! A responsible young man,  _Not_   _Spider-man_! I can't believe this," She took a deep breath as if to calm herself  and prepare for what she was going to say next.

"I need the suit. Take it off, I'm getting rid of it. There will be no more of this- this  _Spider-man_  nonsense."

"What!? No! You can't! Mr. Stark gave it to me! You can't just take it! And I can't stop being Spider-man! Queens  _needs_  me! Who's going to protect innocent people if I'm not around?"

She turned angry again, even more angry than she had been before.

"That's what policemen are for! Not for little boys to go running around playing Captain America!"

Ouch.

"You need to stop this. Please, Peter. Give it to me," She said.

"No."

Her eyes smoldered.

"You don't get to say 'No' to me, Peter. I'm the adult here, I make the decisions. You will _not_ go out and pretend to be some kind of hero. Risking your life. You're a god-damned _child_. You're grounded until further notice. Go to your room."

He glared at her, but eventually complied and turned to walk back into his room, slamming the door behind him. The neighbors again complained, shouting profanities in Spanish through the thin wall on his left. But, he didn't care what they had to say. It was not like he could understand it anyway.

As they continued yelling, he threw himself onto the bed and put a pillow over his head in an attempt to block out the neighbor's fowl words. He wasn't a  _child_! May couldn't do this and he was pissed.

 

* * *

 

Thirty minutes passed. The neighbors had long since quieted, but he still heard their muffled talking due to his newly acquired sensitive hearing. The murmur of voices was somewhat comforting in the otherwise quiet and dark room, he didn't feel so alone when he heard them.

He was almost asleep when he heard something else. Now that that the neighbors were talking considerably softer, he could hear May pacing around her bedroom on the right. It sounded like she was crying.

At the sound, Peter felt guilt crawl into his chest and make a hole- deep and aching. He sat up and frowned, feeling distressed. Had he made his Aunt cry? How could he be such a terrible nephew? She probably thought when he was out patrolling he would hurt himself, or worse, end up like Uncle Ben. But… he was able to take care of himself as Spider-man; well, most of the time. Plus, Mr. Stark helped him out too… well...occasionally. He pondered if he should go and comfort her. Maybe he could convince her that he could take care of himself. A particularly loud sob cut through his musings, alerting him that maybe he should wait. Let her cool off some before speaking to her so he didn't make her more upset than he already had.

Suddenly, he felt ridiculous, still dressed as Spider-man after all this time. He got up to change out of his suit into some real pajamas and turned on the desk lamp. It had been nearing sunset when they had fought, and it was completely dark out now. He started at the darkness out the window as he changed into a pair of Star Wars themed pajamas. He then very neatly folded up the Spider-man suit, stuffing it back into the attic where the other had previously been. But - the question came to pass- should he even hide it anymore? It's not like it was really a secret, now. Everything was out in the open and Aunt May knew now… he tossed it up there anyway, just in case.

Realizing that he now needed to brush his teeth, Peter opened the bedroom door carefully; it's hinges creaking loudly and poked his head out. He was still grounded after all and the rule when he was grounded was that he wasn't allowed out of the room except to go to the bathroom. He knew that he was technically following this rule, but he still didn't want to run into May and see how distressed she was. Her blotchy face from crying would only make his guilt feel even worse, consuming him, until he would eventually start crying too.

 

All the lights in the apartment were now off, the only light came from the lamp behind him, shining brightly into the kitchen and producing an array of shadows.

 

With the coast clear, he walked past the kitchen into the hallway and into the bathroom. He took care of business and brushed his teeth. As he was spitting the last of the toothpaste out and rinsing his mouth, he heard a noise from outside of the bathroom. Maybe May needed to brush her teeth too, he thought- though he really hoped not. But, she didn't come into the bathroom and instead she walked past it and to the hall closet. The door squeaked open and he heard rummaging. Then she walked back to her room, closing the door behind her.

'Well, that was weird', Peter thought to himself.

He finished up in the bathroom and walked back into the hall. He looked at May's closed door and the open door of the hall closet. He contemplated closing it, but then May would know he had left his room to go to the bathroom and not gone straight back. And if he closed that door, what would stop her from thinking he wasn't roaming around the rest of the house? He decided against it and went back to his room; fear of making May even more upset pushing him forward. He turned off the desk lamp and got into bed, making sure to plug in his phone. He hoped tomorrow would be better.

* * *

 

MONDAY

"Class, you all remember the Pythagorean Theorem you learned in 6th grade? Well, get ready folks, because that's all going to change!" The AP Geometry teacher grinned cheerily.

 

Peter glanced down and made sure he was on the correct page of the textbook. He felt a tap on his shoulder from his left and turned to see Michelle holding up her notebook. On it was the new formula and an array of notes written in her perfect cursive, but beneath all of that—was a crudely drawn picture of himself in the exact position he was currently sitting in. He shifted positions self-consciously and picked up his pencil, quietly clearing his throat and turning back to the teacher. Michelle also turned back to her notes, grinning—satisfied that she had managed to make him feel uncomfortable. Not that it was a hard task to do... but he still wasn't sure how he felt about being her latest drawing model.

As the day went on classes passed and he gathered a decent amount of homework along the way. He was bored out of his mind in AP History as the teacher read out of the textbook and when the bell finally rang releasing the students for lunch, he gladly scrambled to leave. Today was hamburgers- not that they looked anything remotely like a normal hamburger; it was said among the students that they were probably not even regular meat. Maybe they were made of horse or cardboard. Peter was almost certain of it—but was hungry enough not to care, plus, once you douse something in enough ketchup, you can't even taste it anymore.

He sat down next to his best friend Ned at their usual table and MJ sat down a few chairs over. Not even touching the school lunch in front of her. She opted instead to stare down into her book—Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov. She sat in a leaning position, her legs stretched into the chair next to her. Facing the boys, but with book covering her face telling them that she was not in the mood to talk to them. Not that she wasn't listening though, because MJ was always listening.

"Hey, Pete, you wanna come over to my house later and finish up the Ewok Village?"

Of course, he would love to help finish that Lego set, but he was grounded.

"Sorry, Ned, I can't. I'm grounded indefinitely."

MJ looked up from her book. Her attention peaked,

"What? You? Really?", she asked incredulously. "How'd you manage that?"

His face reddened.

"I uh…" He stalled by drinking his milk and tried to think of a reason. What would his usual self get in trouble for? "I got a C on the last two quizzes in Chem." He told her, not looking at the girl and putting down the milk.

"She grounded you for  _that_?" asked Ned.

"Uh… yeah. You know how she is about my grades, guys…Best school, important for my future, costs lots of money, etcetera, etcetera…" Peter lied, keeping his head down and picking at his canned peaches with a plastic fork.

MJ and Ned seemed satisfied with his answer, but bringing up May made the guilt of their fight from yesterday come back and he didn't feel so hungry anymore.

"So, uh, how'd you think you guys did on the English homework last night?" Peter asked, changing the subject. MJ turned back to her book.

"Oh my god, man. Freaking  _English_! So, you know how in the book, that guy was fighting the monster in chapter 3?" Ned began.

Peter turned to him and gave him his full attention, because anything that got Ned this excited, had to be good.

* * *

 

At 3:10 pm on the dot, the bell rang signaling the end of school, in tune with it Peter's phone chimed. He took it out of his pocket;

'One unread message from _: Happy_  :)'

He opened it.

Happy: I'm picking you up

Peter hastily replied,

Peter: OK, on my way out noe

Peter: *noe

Peter: I meant noe

Peter: Oh my gosh, why. I swear, I'm on my way. About to go to my locker a sec

Happy: Make it snappy Tonys waiting

He tossed his needed textbooks into his backpack from his locker which succeeded in making it about 20 pounds heavier; when water was splashed all the way down the front of his T-Shirt.

"Looks like Penis Parker had an accident over here. Clean up in Isle 3!"

Flash—his school rival, his nemesis; mocked. A bunch of the lingering students giggled at the stupid joke, making his face redden. 'If you ignore them, they will go away. If you ignore them, they will go away' He told himself repeatedly. It really sucked having to keep his powers hidden, sometimes. One day he'd just really like to give Flash a taste of his own medicine. Flash and his little group walked away fist-bumping over the fool they had just made of Peter Parker.

Peter closed his locker and walked the final steps out of the school and to the sleek black car Happy was leaning against.

"Hey, Happy."

"What happened to you?" Happy asked rhetorically without any greeting. "I'm not going to have to put any towels down in the backseat to keep you from getting them wet, am I? Because this is an expensive car."

"No, it's OK. It's just a little water, I promise," Peter said.

"Alright, fine, get in." Happy sighed. He went around the car and sat down in the driver's seat having nothing more to say.

Peter felt like such a loser, he should have defended himself better from Flash. Sure, it was just a little water, but now Happy was annoyed with him. He sighed and looked at his shirt. Putting his backpack in first, he got into the back seat of the Sedan and put on his seat belt. After looking in his rear view to see if Peter was situated, Happy pulled out of the school parking lot. Peter rummaged through his bag and pulled out his ear buds to play some music while he watched the scenery pass dejectedly.

Happy pulled up to the compound, slightly worried. Peter hadn't said a word the whole ride. Usually, he would talk so much Happy would have to put up the divider just to shut him up. He got out and opened Peter's door, the kid was taking off his seat belt and grabbed his bag. He got out of the vehicle.

"Thanks, Happy." He said.

"Yeah, no problem, kid." Happy replied.

Happy began to walk into the compound, Peter behind him. Why was Happy walking so fast? Was he trying to get away from him? No, Peter was probably just being overly sensitive. Happy looked behind him to check that Peter was still behind him, the kid was walking, staring at his shoes. Something was up. Something he would leave Tony to deal with. He was not paid enough to deal with teenage angst.

Tony met them in the lobby when they walked inside. Peter almost walking right into Happy, not paying attention to where he was going.

"Sorry, Mr. Happy."

Mister Happy? That was new. Tony's eyebrows raised.

"What's up with the kid?" Tony asked his bodyguard.

Peter's earbuds were still in, but nothing was playing. Happy shrugged.

"Right. Well." Tony clapped his hands together. Preparing himself. "See ya, Happy. Thanks for bringing him. We'll call if we need you."

"No problem, Boss." And with that Happy walked away, his job accomplished.

"So, Peter." Tony wrapped an arm around the teenager's shoulders. Peter looked up, surprised and took out his earbuds. They began to walk to the elevator.

"I was thinking, what do you think about a new web shooter action?"

Peter's eyes brightened and Tony knew it had been the right thing to say.

"Oh my gosh, Mr Stark! I have so many ideas!" His bad mood instantly washed away by the prospect of working in the lab. After sending a quick text to May to let her know where he was, the two settled in for an evening of pizza and engineering.


	2. The Sharpie

   

Chapter 2: Sharpie

MONDAY EVENING

     That evening they spent their time tinkering with Peter’s suit, munching on pizza, and talking about anything and everything that came to their minds. They lost track of time in their fun and probably would have gone on all night if Peter hadn’t said something. Although he dreaded leaving, he knew that he had to go home eventually. He had school the next morning and he needed to leave anyway so May wouldn’t be worried.

Peter finished with the wires and hid them back in the fabric of the suit. 

“Thanks so much for letting me help and for upgrading my suit, Mr. Stark."  said Peter, packing up his bag and sweater to leave.

“I had a lot of fun.”

“Anytime Spider-ling, you know I love to work on this kind of stuff.”, Mr. Stark responded nonchalantly.  

“I know, Mr. Stark, but still. You don’t have to. It’s not like, an obligation or anything.”

“Pete, no one can force me to do anything. I do whatever I want. And if I want to work with you, I will. If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be here.”

And it was true, but affection coming from Mr. Stark was weird and foreign and most of the time he wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Um… thank you?”, he mumbled confusedly.

“You’re welcome. Now, get out of here, Aunt Hottie won’t wait forever.”

Peter grimaced. Every time Mister Stark made a flirtation towards his Aunt it grossed him out.

“Ew, don’t talk about my aunt like that, she’s my _aunt_. It’s nasty.”

"Excuse me, it’s not my fault your aunt is smokin’.”

"Nope! I’m leaving! Bye, Mr Stark!” Peter called, starting to walk towards the elevators.

“You could toast marshmallows on that ass!” Tony yelled in jest back from the lab.

“LA LA LA LA LA!” sang Peter back, trying to cover up the sound of Tony’s flirtations, his voice getting more distant as he grew closer to the elevators.

Tony laughed at their antics, a massive grin on his face. Man, he loved that kid.

* * *

 

“Thanks for the ride, Happy!” Peter told the man after exiting the sedan once more, this time in front of his and May’s apartment.

“Yeah, yeah.”, replied Happy- already pulling away from the curb.

As soon as Happy was out of sight, he ducked into the closest alleyway and put on his newly upgraded Spider man suit. It might have been late on a school night, but crime never took a rest and he definitely wasn’t ready to go home yet.

“Hello, Peter” Greeted the built in AI.

“Hey, Karen!” He exclaimed back.

“Any crime around?”

“Not at the moment, Peter.”

Well then… apparently  it did rest.

“Okay, keep me updated please.”

     He webbed his backpack to the closest wall and scaled it. Once on the roof, he took a deep breath of the polluted Queens air. Finally, home at last. Then, he stuck a web to the nearest building he could still swing from.

‘Time to save some pedestrians!’ He thought cheerily.

      He saved 1 cat from a tree. ‘Just like in the movies!’ He thought to himself. Walked an old man across a busy street, preformed two flips and stopped one car from smashing into another with just his hands. He hoped that saving their lives from imminent death would be enough to cover pushing a dent into the hood of their truck- because he definitely could not afford that. He swung away before they got out of the car, just in case. He could see the headlines now, ‘COUPLE TAKES SPIDER-MAN TO COURT’.  Yeah, that would go over well.

     At 1am, Peter decided to call it a night. He had school tomorrow, well, technically today; and he couldn’t afford to miss the chemistry notes, otherwise, he’d _really_ get a C on the next quiz. He swung home and pulled on his bedroom window, but it was stuck. He tried again; it didn’t budge.

“That’s weird…” he said to himself into the very early morning air.

     He pulled at the window again, but it still wasn’t moving. He didn’t want to try to pull the window up again, lest he break its frame.  He moved his hands around the edge of it, maybe he could find another way in? Perhaps it was just stuck. However, upon inspecting it closer, he realized it had been locked from the inside. May had locked his window while he was out. She had locked him out. He never locked his window for this exact reason. He didn’t want to be stuck outside. Imagine if he didn’t have his backpack, he’d have to walk up to the door dressed as Spider-man! That would ruin his secret identity. Anyone who was nearby would know where the vigilantly lived. He couldn't jeopardize May's life like that. 

     Peter was shocked, he couldn’t get into his own apartment. He jumped down from the second story window, feeling slightly annoyed. It looked like he would have to use the front door. At 1:15 am, he would have to wake Aunt May and ask to be let in. He looked around for his backpack and found it still stuck to the wall where he had left it. He pushed the emblem on his chest and the suit unstuck to him. He removed the suit and his mask and put them both into his bag. Then put on his school clothes--a button down with a blue sweater over top, jeans, and his sneakers. He looked like his regular-self again.

     He felt kind of guilty for having to wake up and make May answer the door so late, but not so guilty because she locked his window in the first place. He pushed the call button next to the name _Parker_ , written in scratchy pen.

“Hello? “he questioned into the microphone embedded in the wall.

No answer. He tried again.

“May? Are you awake?”

Nothing but static.

 “ _May_?”

Still nothing.

“Hello? Aunt May.”  
“Hello?” she responded tiredly. “Who’s this?”

“May! It’s me, Peter!” he told her. "I was...out...with Ned. And now I can't get back in. Can you unlock the door?"

“ _Who's_ this?”

“Peter?”

“Look kid, I don’t know what you want, but I think you have the wrong house.”

Peter frowned, and double checked the nameplate on the button, _Parker_ was still written there, and this _was_ his apartment building. What was May doing?

“Uh, May? It’s me, Peter, your nephew?” he said, becoming less confident and more nervous. 

“Peter?”

“Yes!”

“I don’t know any Peters.”

“I—” he cut himself off and tears welled up in his eyes. What was going on? May didn’t recognize him? What happened to her? Was she in trouble? She sounded fine. Was she still angry with him? Was she really stooping to this level? How could she do this?

“Peter Parker, May. Your nephew. Your _only nephew_. Aunt May, it’s _me_. Let me in, I want to come in.”

“Please leave or I’m going to have to call the police.”

The tears began to fall, “Aunt May?”

There was no answer, the static was gone and he fisted his hair in panic. This wasn't _fair_. What was he going to do? If May was ignoring him, this was too far. She couldn't just leave him out here! How would he survive on his own? He didn't have any money! He would be _homeless_ if she never let him in. His mind spun as he overthought himself into a panic. Oh, god. What was he going to do? Where was he going to go? How long would he have to stay out here? How long was he going to be on his own? He couldn't even make his own _doctor's appointments_ let alone live on his own.

The panic really beginning to set in as he began to quietly sob and curled up in front of the apartment complex’s door. The tears rolled down his cheeks and splashed onto the concrete leaving tiny splatters. He put his head in his arms.

His own aunt didn’t recognize him: or she was pretending not to. Either way, it was a distressing realization. How could she do this to him? If he didn’t have Aunt May, then who was left? _No one_.

He pulled his phone out, the tears still falling, and tried to call her. Maybe she would answer her phone. He was immediately thrown to voicemail. He tried three more times, each time getting the same result and getting more and more distressed. When he finally realized it wasn’t working, he texted Ned.

Peter: _Ned?_

He typed shakily and Ned, the best friend ever, answered promptly.

Ned: _Hey, Pete, what’s up?_

Peter: _May won’t let me in_

Ned: _What? What are u talking about?_

Peter: _The apartment. im locked out._

Ned: _Did you try the window?_

Peter: _Yes it was locked_

Ned: _That’s weird did you lock it_

Peter: _No why would i_

His tears were starting to lessen now that he was talking with his calm friend.

Ned: _What about the door_

Peter: _May wont let me in, i tried! she wont let me in. she said she wont. i tried everything_

 _‘Ned is calling…’_ his phone told him. He answered.

“Peter, what do you mean she won’t let you in?” asked Ned in lieu of greeting. Whatever composure Peter had gained by texting his friend completely crumbled. He began to sob again, his tears falling quicker. Ned panicked, Peter was crying!

“Peter?! Dude, what’s going on?”

“She won’t--! I tried to call through the buzzer, but she won’t open the door! She pretended like she didn’t even know me! What am I going to do, she’s everything I have. I’ve been sitting out here since 1 AM, what if she never wants to see me again? What am I gonna do? I'll be homeless, I'll have to live on my own! I'll have to drop out of school! Where will I even go? I don't even have any money for _food_.” he said between sobs. He was almost hyperventilating at this point.

His face felt warm and his hands felt clammy, but the tears kept rolling, he briefly thanked whoever was up there that no one was out walking at this time.

“Calm down, dude, breathe.”

Peter tried to breathe, but it came out shakily.

“I think I’m having a panic attack.”

“You’ll be okay. Assess the situation. Breathe.” Said Ned.

Peter did so.

“M—May won’t let me in the apart—apartment. I’m sitting on the steps.”

“Good,”

“And I’m talking to you.”

“Right, and if you need to, you can come over. I’m sure my mom won’t mind.”

Peter felt the turmoil in his mind calming, he took a deep breath. He wasn’t alone, he had Ned. He could crash at Ned’s if he had to. He was fine. His crying had calmed down to the occasional sniffle.

“You’ll be OK, man. I’m sure of it.”

“Thanks, Ned. I owe you, one.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve. 

 “No, you don’t, dude. Just being a decent human being,” replied  Ned.

Peter gave a watery chuckle at that.

Suddenly, the buzzer crackled, and May’s voice emanated from the speaker. He dropped his phone onto the concrete steps, cracking the glass. But, he didn’t care as he and scrambled up to the noise and wiped his face with his hands.

“What’s the magic word, Peter?”

He hesitated.

 “…Please?”

The door unlocked. 

* * *

 

TUESDAY

He woke up the next morning with a splitting headache due to all the crying last night. He brushed his teeth, avoiding his reflection and got ready for school—slightly afraid of running into May. Since the incident last night, he hadn’t seen her and to be honest, he really didn’t want to either.

He walked into the kitchen to look for breakfast and opened a cabinet to find the cereal. He grabbed a box and set it on the counter next to a bowl and spoon. He was about to pour some of the sugary cereal into the plastic bowl when he noticed something.

 Written in bold black letters on the side of the cardboard box was the name MAY. Like she had laid claim to the cereal. He took out the other box of cereal and the same thing was written on it. He opened the fridge and everywhere he looked: MAY, MAY, MAY, MAY. She had written her name on every food item in the kitchen in bold, black sharpie letters.

There was a note attached to the fridge. He pulled it off and began to read.

Peter,

 Anything with my name on it, belongs to me. Eat lunch at school.

-May <3

 


	3. The Suicide

Chapter 3- The Suicide

Peter was confused, why couldn’t he eat breakfast in his own home? He didn’t understand, but he didn't have time to question it because he was afraid of missing the subway, he grabbed his backpack and went out the door. He put in his earbuds to cover the sounds of the city from his overly sensitive ears and left the apartment getting on the subway as he always did. He stood and held the tall metal pole, counting the stops until he made it to Midtown. 

 

He walked off the train and checked his watch. Generally, he got to the school early but today he only had 5 minutes until class began. He gasped, he wasn't going to make it if he didn't do something drastic. Peter ran quickly down the stairs of the station and towards the high school. He looked around and when he noticed no milling students or bystanders in the nearby radius, he leaped over the tall fence that surrounded it using his enhanced abilities. Then, sprinting across the artificial grass of the football field and through the heavy front doors, he attempted to run to class before the bell rang.

 

He had almost been late, the few students that were in the halls were already making their way through the doorways, teachers closing already closing them. Luckily enough, he made it to his classroom right as the bell rang. His teacher gave him a dirty look as he sat down, but did not say anything, simply began taking attendance. He dug out his pencil and composition notebook just as everyone else did—and prepared to take notes.

When lunch rolled around, he was starving! He hadn't eaten anything since the day before and at this point he was getting a little dizzy. His stomach rumbled hungrily every five minutes causing all his classmates in fourth period to stare at him--which in turn caused his face to turn bright red. The lunch bell rang and the students filled out of the class. Finally, he could get some food! Today was chicken nugget day.

The teen got through the line without much fuss and checked his pockets for extra money for an apple but found that he had none. He punched in his lunch number at the register and the woman at the computer sneered at him from behind her half-moon glasses when she saw him put the apple back in the basket. He looked away, embarrassed. Thank goodness, for the Federally Assisted Meal Program paperwork he had asked May to fill out for him. The program ensured he would always at least have lunch at school.

 

Sitting down next to his friends, he began to eat. Wow, he was really hungry. The nuggets were like soggy cardboard, but he ate them anyway, trying to fill the empty pit in his stomach. Ned and MJ watched in astonishment as their friend practically inhaled his papery school lunch. But he ignored them until they looked away, keeping his head down and focusing on filling his stomach. The rest of school went on without a hitch and even Flash was too busy to bother him. 

Later that evening when he finally got home, he began on his homework—answering every question right. Then, he jumped into his Spider-man suit, and hopped out the window for some fresh air. Peter was climbing up the side of a large random building just to see if he could get to the top, when he heard a shrill scream. _Sounds like trouble,_  he thought--and shot out a web to travel by.

Once he arrived at the building above where he had heard the scream, he looked over the ledge to judge the scene. A man in raggedy and torn clothing was holding a gun to an older woman. 

"Hand it over!" the man cried, and snatched the velvet clutch from her as she offered it.

She was trembling and her graying blonde hair was disheveled as if the man had pulled her into the alley by it. The man shoved the purse under his arm and cocked the gun in her face. She whimpered and put her hands in the air. Peter decided he'd seen enough--she needed his help. He jumped down from the roof, landing quietly behind the man with the gun. 

“What’s going on here?” he asked.

The gunman swung around, confused as to when Spider-man had suddenly appeared.

“I don’t want any trouble, man.” Said the gunman, his trembling hand holding the gun aimed at Peters chest. Peter put his hands in the air as well, hoping to defuse the tense situation.

"The gun kinda says other-wise, dude. How about you give the lady her purse back and I won't have to stick you to that wall over there?" 

“I--I don't need the purse. I just need the money, I swear, I'll give it back... I’m starving, man!” the gunman pleaded. His face twisted in fear and he looked like he would snap at any moment if Peter didn’t do something.

“Okay, well, why don’t you give her the purse back, and we’ll figure something out together,” said Peter slowly. The gunman’s eyes flickered back and forth from Peter to the woman. Then, he put the gun under his chin. Peter’s eyes widened.

“No, no, no, no, no, please don’t do that. We can figure this out, I’m sure I have some money somewhere, and we can get you some food!” encouraged Peter, patting his suit for any sort of pockets.

He knew there were none, it was a spandex suit, but needed to calm the guy down. There had to be money in there somewhere, then maybe, he and Peter could go get something to eat. They were both hungry and he could kill two birds with one stone, as the saying goes. The woman on the other side of the alley way still looked terrified and put a hand over her mouth in fear. The gun cocked and Peter's eyes widened as he looked up.

“I can’t do this anymore,” said the man in a desperate tone, he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

With a loud explosion, blood and bits of brain rained down on Peter. He instinctively shielded his face, as did the older woman. There was a thump as the body hit the cement. Trembling, they both put their hands down and looked at the man dead on the ground. The woman closed her eyes tightly and began to cry out of shock and terror from the other side of the now silent alleyway.

 

Peter, too, was in shock. He simply stared at the body, blood and brain pooling out of the man’s torn open head. His mouth began to fill with saliva and he knew he was about to vomit. He gagged and ripped off his mask, too focused on the traumatizing situation than on keeping his identity safe from the woman. He retched again and threw up the meager lunch of tasteless chicken nuggets and milk all over the asphalt. The woman stopped her tears and looked up in surprise.

She watched him as he coughed and steadied himself on the dirty brick wall behind him. He grimaced and scooted to the side a little, away from the vomit. The woman looked down at the corpse between them, seemingly taking in the situation. 

“Oh my god.” She said staring at the body, she watched the blood form a tiny river.

She then seemed to remember something and looked back to him quickly.

“ Oh my god, you’re just a kid!” She gasped and slapped a hand over her mouth in realization. "Fuck!" 

Peter wiped his mouth and slid down the wall sitting against it away from the mess, just trying to breath and looked up to the sky in order to avoid seeing the bloody scene before him. Then it registered to him what the woman had just said. His eyes widened and he looked back at her. They stared at each other.

“Where are your parents?” she asked him, her eyes trailed to the body again before he could answer.

“Oh my god, what are we going to do?”

It seemed like the shock was finally wearing off her. Peter said nothing.

“What the hell am I supposed to _do_?”

She began to panic and ran her hands through her hair. She then looked at him and suddenly seemed to realize something.

“Oh, god. He’s just a kid! A kid just _saw that_. No one should see that, let alone a child! I— _I_ am the adult. I have to get a hold of myself. I have to be the strong one,” She reprimanded herself. "Fifty years and I still have to tell myself that." 

"Ignore it and focus." she told herself, trying to give herself a pep-talk. 

She took a deep breath, shook her hands out, and wiped her eyes again, trying to regain composure and stepped over the body to get to the boy, grabbing her purse from the gore as she went.

He curled in on himself to give her more room to stand in between him and the corpse. She squatted down to his level and put her hands on his shoulders. It helped that she could no longer see the body and she focused on helping the boy. He looked to still be in shock she noticed, and his face was very pale.

“You’re fine, you’re okay.” she told him.

He began to shake and looked past her and at the corpse, the last dead body he saw was Uncle Ben’s and even then, he hadn’t witnessed the actual shooting. This was incredibly morbid, he would never get the images out of his head. How would he ever sleep? The blood was moving sluggishly from the crater the bullet had formed. Blood stuck to the man's hair and Peter could see into the hole where flesh, brain and bone were visible from between the blood. His stomach rolled again.

Whenever he was out patrolling it never got this far. He would only roughen criminals up a little for the police. He didn't do anything to stop this, he wasn't fast enough. He was talking and looking in his pockets when he should have been focused on the gun. ...Did he cause this? Was it his fault that there was now brains on the street? Mr. Stark would never let this happen. Mr. Stark would have done something heroic and saved both the homeless man _and_ the woman. If Peter was a better superhero, this wouldn’t have happened.

Suddenly, he wasn’t Spider-man anymore, he was Peter Parker. A scared little boy in a red and blue spandex suit with an Aunt who didn’t love him anymore. He was Peter Parker sitting in a dirty alleyway in Brooklyn, far away from home, alone with a stranger and a dead body. A dead body who would be alive if he had been better.

“Don’t—don’t look at that. Look at me.” The woman said and he looked back at her as instructed.  

Her face was pinched in concern, it reminded him of May. 

Suddenly, it was all too much. His face crumpled, and he burst into tears.

“Shh, shh, shh, don’t cry. It’s okay. I know this looks bad, but the police will be here soon. It wasn’t your fault. Hush, sweetheart.” She cooed to him, attempting to comfort the traumatized boy.

Still he sobbed, not at all comforted. She pulled him close and he looped his arms around her neck and buried his face in the older woman’s shoulder so he wouldn’t see the carnage behind her. She pulled out her phone and dialed 911.

“Hello, yes, I’d like to report a suicide.”

Peter began to cry harder, devastated he had caused this but also embarrassed that he was so easy to tears.

“No, I’m here with…” she trailed off and looked down at him questioningly, he didn’t notice to busy trying to control his crying.

“A kid…No, we’re okay. No, it’s the man, a homeless man. He tried to steal my purse, then he killed himself with his own gun… Yes, ma’am. No, he’s dead. Yes, I’m sure. There are… pieces, everywhere.”

She felt calm and collected now that she had her back to the body and because she felt she had a reason to remain strong. She had to protect this kid, whoever he was. So like her own grandchildren. And he was probably traumatized. Spider-man or not- he was a scared, traumatized little boy.

Peter was still sobbing into the woman’s neck, afraid to look. If this were to happen out in the open, he wouldn’t dream of crying to anyone. He’d bottle it up and cry to May when he got home. But May wasn’t speaking to him, and was no doubt still angry with him. May definitely wouldn’t have comforted him, so he got it where he could. Besides, May wasn’t here.

There was no one here, just this random old woman who he had shared this horrifying experience with. She had taken the initiative, she knew what to do next- Peter didn’t. All he knew was that someone had died on his watch. What was some 15-year-old kid from Queens supposed to do with a dead body?

She shushed him again and then began to stand. He reluctantly let go and looked up at her quizzically. Was she leaving him? He doesn’t think he could handle her leaving right now, but he needed to calm down, she was probably tired of his crying by now. Disgusted by the state of him. But, the mystery woman only held out her hand and helped him to stand as well. He still trembled, and he only remained upright due to the wall behind him.

“You won’t be able to get out of here in this state,” she told him then looked him up and down. “Can you take off the suit?”

He nodded then blushed. “I’ll only be in my underwear…”.

She took off her soft, worn looking trench coat and handed it to him.

“You can’t be dressed up like that, you’ll be a suspect.” She told him.

He nodded again in understanding, then she turned around and he took off the suit. Replacing it with the tan trench coat. Now, he was cold. He didn’t even have shoes. She turned back around and saw him wiggle his toes. He hid the suit behind some bins in the corner of the alley for now and turned back to the woman. She hugged him, and the tears still flowed steadily but silently from his eyes. Only sniffles could be heard from the alley.

Soon, the police arrived, and by this time they had resumed sitting on the ground. Now, however, they were much closer to the entrance of the alley and away from the body. Peter’s head in the woman’s lap, her fingers carding through his hair. He soaked up the comfort like a sponge, sniffling and being lulled to sleep, unsure that May would even care about his ordeal when he got home. Not that he would bother her with it. 

Finally, a policeman walked over to the pair.  
“Son, can you sit up? I know you guys are having a rough time, but I just need to ask you some questions.

Peter did so, and the policeman asked them both questions about what had happened. Together, they told the story excluding the part where Spider-man had appeared and changed it to ‘Peter had been walking past and came in to help.’

“Can you tell me your name, son?” asked the policeman.

“Peter.”  He replied quietly.

“Full name?”

Peter glanced at the woman.

“…Peter Benjamin Parker.”

The policeman wrote it down.

“And your age, Mr. Parker?”

“I'm 15.”

Peter looked at the ground, while the police officer took one last look at his blotchy face and closed the notepad.

“Do you have any one we can call, Mr. Parker?”

Twin tears trailed down his cheeks. And he nodded his head.

“I have an Aunt.” He whispered.

He hated himself for having to need them to call her. She would be so angry that he pulled her from her late shift at work, but he really didn’t have anyone else to call. After giving the officer May’s information, the man went to make the call. The older woman had remained the entire time and now knew his identity completely.

“Please don’t tell anyone who I am.” He said forlornly.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.” She said, scooting closer and holding her arms out for a hug. He leaned into them and she held him.

Half an hour later, Aunt May had arrived and she was talking to one of the police officers. She nodded and looked at him curled into the woman he had meant to save.  Then held out her hand for him like she was taking him home from preschool, ignoring his tear-stained face. Not even thanking the woman for looking after him. He took it obligingly then paused to grab his suit from behind the bins, hiding it under the borrowed coat.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry.” Peter whispered to the woman. She smiled tiredly.

“Don’t blame yourself. I’ll see you around, sweetheart. You look for me if you ever need help again.” He nodded and gave her a watery smile. He was then led away by May and the police took the woman to the ambulance to check on her.

May and Peter got into the taxi and took the silent ride home. Pulling up to the apartment they got out after May paid and continued into their home. Peter made sure to keep himself out of her way—walking 3 feet or so behind her. She already had to get out of work to get him, he didn’t need to bother her anymore than he already had.

She threw her keys down and not saying a word, she left to her room. Peter now feeling exhausted, showered and went to his own room. Afraid to sleep, he put on his pajamas and sat in bed t then turned on a light and began to read his chemistry textbook. Eventually, without his notice, he fell asleep curled up, the heavy textbook spread out on the blankets and the lamp light still on.


	4. The Starvation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, this chapter is short, although it is crucial to the story. In the next chapter, which I will begin today and hopefully have up soon, the real drama begins!

Chapter 4- The Starvation

WEDNESDAY

_He was back in the grimy trash-filled alleyway and in front of him was the man. The corpse. The side of the corpse's head was blown out, covering Peter and the wall behind him in an excessive amount of blood and brain. And the Blood, there was so much blood! Dripping out of the man’s ears, nose, mouth and eyes . Steadily leaking out of the top of his skull and from strands of his hair._

_Peter, too, was covered in blood. It was dripping down his sweater in thick globs. Aunt May would be furious. His sweater was ruined and no amount of Tide would take this out. Besides, he didn’t want it anymore. Not after this. Wait. His sweater? These were his school clothes! He wasn’t Spider-man right now! This wasn’t supposed to happen when he was Peter! The gore slowly soaked into his shoes and through to his socks staining them red. He wanted to panic, his heart was beating quicker and it was becoming harder to breathe. A sudden voice shocked him out of his stupor and his head snapped up._

_“Oh, god."_

_It was the woman. She was curled up at the other end of the alley way._

_“Oh, god.” She said again._

_Her face was vacant and there was a hole in the center of her forehead. It leaked thick, black blood that traveled down her face and dripped into her mouth._

_“Oh, god.” She repeated over and over, rocking back and forth with her arms around her knees._

_Peter was too stunned to do anything else but stare. He had saved her... hadn’t he? But the bullet that had exploded her skull onto the wall suggested differently. Suddenly, her face begun to melt. Her skin, hair and muscles dripping into a horrifying pool beneath her, leaving behind just her empty skull. Still, she continued rocking back and forth as if nothing happened._

_“Oh, god.” Her skull said, the words sliding out between bone-white teeth._

_The skull then turned to him, looking up from the unmoving corpse in front of them and stopping it’s continuous rocking._

_“You did this.” It said accusingly._

_“Why didn’t you do something? Why didn’t you save us?”_

_The homeless man sat up. The gore dripping off his back from his dirty sweatshirt and into the ankle-deep pool of blood that had filled the entire alleyway._

_“Why didn’t you save us?” He said, red spittle flying out of his mouth._

_“Why didn’t you save us?” asked the skull._

_“Why didn’t you save us?”_

_“Why didn’t you save us?”_

_“Why didn’t you save us?”_

_“Why didn’t you save us?”_

_“Why didn’t you save us?”_

Peter gasped sitting up in bed. His chest heaving and sweat covering his body in a thin layer, dampening his pajama shirt and sticking it to his back. The loud thump of his textbook hitting the ground caused him to jump in his still nervous state. He tried to calm his whirling mind by taking deep breaths. One hand holding his blankets and the other clutching his chest.

Little by little, he calmed down. He wondered if May had heard anything, had he made any noise in his sleep? And if he had, would May have even come to check on him? He doubted it. He shoved the thought away as his stomach rumbled. His last meal was at lunch yesterday and now that lunch was splayed out on the asphalt of that alleyway.

He got up and trudged out into the bathroom. He was pretty sure he'd heard somewhere that enough water could trick one's stomach into thinking it was full. So, he turned on the faucet and cupped his hands under the cold water, bringing it up to his lips to drink. The cool water from the tap soothing his angry stomach. Drinking handful after handful until it no longer rumbled, and it finally felt like it wasn’t trying to eat itself alive. He turned off the tap, dried himself off and went back to his room, covering himself with the soft dark-colored blankets on his bed. His mind began swirl again once he was back in the semi-dark and quiet bedroom, still thinking about the nightmare.

He had saved that woman, he told himself. She was fine! But the dream blended together with reality and he could no longer tell which was which. All he could see was the red. He had left the lamp on, too afraid that if he turned it off, he would see the man lying dead on his carpet; his blood soaking into the fibers.  An image that would never go away once it appeared.

He flipped over and grabbed his phone off the nightstand. Leaving it plugged in and switching it on, he tapped YouTube. He needed a distraction and cat videos with cheery music would have to do. He didn’t even notice when he fell asleep, mindless videos playing though the silence.

He woke up twice more that night, each nightmare just as terrifying as the last. In the end, by 5AM he abandoned sleep all together, opting instead to lie in bed and stare at the alarm clock set on his nightstand and trying not to think. Eventually, but not soon enough, it rang signaling that it was time for school.

Getting dressed was a chore, and he was almost late for the subway having dragged his feet all the way there. He curled up into a seat  which he usually never got--thank goodness for small miracles—on one of the less busy subway cars. Being curled up somewhat eased the ache in his muscles from the lack of food and sleep. And he simply watched the scenery pass by through the large windows- one of the advantages of commuting from Queens was that the view was never boring. 

No one bothered him in the beginning, which he thought was a testament to how awful he must have looked. His hair haphazardly brushed and he had dark circles under his eyes. He yawned into his knees and an old man from across the aisle smirked.

“Tired, kid?” he asked. 

Peter jumped slightly in surprise. And the man chuckled. Peter didn't like the look of the man, and was suddenly alert.

“Yeah, I-uh didn’t get much sleep last night…” he said cautiously. He feared what would happen if he didn't answer the stranger. He'd heard things about women and children getting harassed on the streets. If he didn't answer, well, it'd be rude for one and two he didn't want to get on the stranger's bad side. Not that Peter wasn't a strong kid, of course he was. He wouldn't patrol at night if he wasn't, but he wasn't about to reveal his identity any time soon. Especially over something so insignificant. 

The man chuckled again.

“Party too hard?” he asked.

If only that's all it had been, Peter thought. 

“It was a school night…” he replied. He picked at a string on the knee of his jeans trying to focus on anything but the creep in front of him. 

“Ah, good kid.” The man said. He went quiet for a moment, then began to speak once more, rubbing his chin.

“You know, you remind me of someone. Yeah... You remind me of my daughter--a pretty little thing...” he trailed off. 

Peter looked up at him with slight fear and his stomach flipped at the possible implications of what the man was saying.

"Um... thank you...?" he replied quietly.

The man looked thoughtful as he studied the teen. Peter's spider-senses were itching. There was something extremely off about this man and Peter didn’t like it. Worried, he looked at the map and saw his stop was next. Hoping to seem like he was ignoring him for the next few minutes at least, he got his phone out of his pocket while also keeping an eye on him. His stomach grumbled suddenly, reminding him he'd already digested the water he'd had at 3 AM.

Peter: _Hey Ned_

Ned: _Hey dude what’s up :P_

Peter: _Can you bring me an apple or something im starving and I forgot to eat breakfast_

Ned: _Yeah, sure dude_

Ned: _Did you do the trig homework last night??_

Peter: _Uh, yeah? Why_

Ned: _What’d you get for number 3? Cuz I got 974 as the answer and idk why_

They continued their conversation until it was time for Peter to get off the subway. He stood up, making sure to grab his backpack.

“You watch out for yourself out there, kid.” Said the old man, a sly smile on his face that caused chills to break out on Peter’s skin. “Ya never know what kind of people roam these streets…Don’t wanna be caught out there by yourself.”

Peter was now definitely sure that this man was one of those people and quickly left the subway, not even justifying the man with an answer this time. He hoped he'd never see him again. The man made his skin itch. Peter swiftly walked across the football field and into the school.

He was passing by his locker to drop off his books when Ned walked up to him. He was holding the most glorious looking blueberry muffin Peter had ever seen. Peter didn’t even like blueberries, but that muffin looked heavenly compared to the polluted air he’d had for breakfast.

“Hey, dude. Here’s that muffin you wanted.” Ned gave him the somewhat squished muffin. “I had to hold it the whole way to school, so it got a little crushed, but I’m sure it’s fine and it’ll taste the same anyway.”

Peter paused then took the muffin. 

“Thanks, man. I really wasn’t expecting you to bring me a whole muffin. I’m sure I would have been fine with like… half a muffin or even a banana or something…” Peter thanked and closed his locker.

“It was just sitting in my pantry, it’s no big deal. Just eat the muffin.” Ned told him and Peter did—blueberries and all. Together, they walked to math class.

Around third period or so, his body had already digested the entire muffin. Damn, his high metabolism. And now it was grumbling loudly, again. Acting like the muffin was a gateway to more food—food that he didn’t have. And probably would never have at this rate.

The bell rang and finally, it was lunch time. He stood up from his chair with the rest of the class when the world started to tilt. Luckily, it was only a mild dizzy spell and he caught himself with shaky hands on the desk next to him. He felt so lightheaded and it was slightly concerning in all honesty.

Slowly, he managed to walk out the door and to the boy’s bathroom. Almost tripping over himself and repeating what he did last night. Drinking water until his stomach didn’t feel like it would rip itself in half. Full on water, he felt slightly better and now that it was lunch time, he could finally go get food.

Once he retrieved his lunch, he sat down at his usual table with his tray of unappetizing looking fish sticks. They were grey in the middle, but his stomach did not care in the slightest. Once he was halfway through his lunch, he took stock of what he had left. In the left-hand compartment of the tray, a little cup held grapes. Yes! Something he could put in his backpack and eat for dinner. Grapes didn’t spoil if they weren’t in the fridge for a while, did they? He didn't know. But decided to risk it for the sake of at least having one edible thing for later.

Ned had an odd look on his face as he watched Peter stuff a plastic cup of grapes into his bag.

“Dude, what are you doing?” he asked. “Aren’t you going to eat those?”

“Well, yeah. Later though.”

“But, what about your…” he whispered that last part. “ _Enhanced metabolism_?”

“Ned. That’s exactly why I’m keeping them for later. For when I, you know, _go out_ … I have to keep my strength up.”

Ned smiled knowingly.

“ _Badass_.”

Peter mentally sighed in relief. He didn’t want to explain all the issues he’d been having with May right now, besides, he was sure she’d be cooled off soon enough. He just had to be patient and then everything would be fine. He finished his lunch with this positive thought in mind.

Later that day, Peter ran into the same issue issue again. It turns out, a handful of grapes is not enough to have for dinner for a growing boy, especially an enhanced one. And soon enough, his stomach felt like it was trying to turn itself inside out again. The cramping of his empty gut made him feel nauseated and he couldn’t focus on his homework.

Abruptly, a thought hit him. He was Spider-man. He was quick, he was agile. He could easily grab a hot dog off a random vender. They wouldn’t even notice. He could swoop in and quickly web one off a cart. Peter was sure they made enough money that one little hot dog wouldn’t make a dent in their earnings. He could almost taste the smokiness of a New York dog on his tongue. He was _starving_.

But… that would be stealing, and that was the exact thing he prevented as Spider-man. Why would he even think of doing something like that? But, it would be so easy. But, it was wrong. He couldn’t do it. What kind of hero was he? Thinking thievery was the answer? ...But, he was so _hungry._

When he went to bed that night, not one nightmare plagued him. Instead, he dreamt about food. All the dinners and lunches his aunt used to make for them, even though she was a terrible cook. 

Even the taste of burnt spaghetti and meatballs—because even if the food was burned, it would at least provide some sort of filling. He even missed the fun-shaped peanut butter and jelly sandwiches his mother used to make when he was especially small. His stomach rumbled even in his sleep, begging for anything to satisfy it.

When he woke up in the morning, Peter no longer felt hungry. It was as if the dreams had somehow provided him with nutrients. If only it were that simple, his stomach had simply gotten used to constantly being empty.

He grabbed an unmarked banana on his way out the door and while walking to the subway station. He held onto the metal subway pole as the train began to move and opened the banana. He bit into the fruit and chewed very slowly, forcing himself to at least eat the one bite. After he swallowed it, he found he simply could not eat anymore, nausea churning within him at the small amount food. He at least was no longer experiencing hunger pains, only feeling hollow. A pleasant change.

 


	5. The Slap

 

Chapter 5: The Slap 

 THURSDAY

The bell rang for fourth period and he packed away his spiral notebook of hastily scribbled notes and his nervously chewed up pencil. The students quickly spilling out into the hallways and toward the cafeteria.Peter was the last one out of the classroom and he walked to his locker, his backpack heavy on his shoulders. He saw Ned standing by his locker and waved, Ned waved back then looked away towards someone. Peter frowned, curious. There was no one else in this hallway.

But, Michelle came from around the corner, Peter was confused, what was she doing here? Where was he? His head was feeling fuzzy and he couldn’t think straight. He leaned one hand on a neighboring locker dizzily, stopping in his tracks. The world continued moving even though he had stopped. What was going on? He squinted through the blurriness to see his friends coming closer and tilted his head in confusion. Why did they look so concerned? Where were they going? Where was _he_ going?

The head tilt did it though, and now he was falling. Someone had yelled his name. His vision tunneled but turned black before he even hit the linoleum. Falling like a stone.

When he came to, he felt the cool floor on his cheek. Looking around from his place on the school floor confusedly, (how had he ended up on the ground?) he saw a pair of knees next to his head. Kneeling next to him was MJ.

“Peter?”

He groaned.

“Wha’ happened?”

“You passed out.” She said bluntly.

“What?”

He pushed himself up into a sitting position and leaned on the lockers, his backpack squished behind him.

“I passed out?”

She only nodded. His head ached, and his cheek stung. He lifted a hand and touched it, a big bruise turning it purple. He squinted and looked around, but the hallway was clear except for him and MJ. Who looked slightly concerned but smothered it with a calm facade.

“Where’s Ned?” he asked.

“I sent him to get the nurse.”

They heard quick footsteps approaching.

“There he is.”

And there he was indeed, with the school nurse in tow just as MJ has said.

“Dude! You’re awake!” cried Ned.

MJ scooted over so the nurse could get in front of him. The nurse looked him up and down, scrutinizing him.

“Can you stand?” she asked after a moment.

“Uh…yes?” he responded.

She helped him up, taking him by the elbow and deftly grabbing his bag from his shoulder with the other hand. She tossed it to Ned who instinctively caught it with a grunt.

“Hold that and come with me, we’re going to my office.” She said leaving no room for argument.

 The group made their way down the hallway and into the Nurse’s office. She led Peter to the cot and instructed him to lay down. He did so as she was slightly intimidating. He felt awkward though, being the only one in the room laying down.

“Put the bag next to the bed and then head on down to lunch, sugars. It’ll be over soon and you don’t want to miss it, it’s taco day.” She told MJ and Ned. The two looked worriedly towards Peter but did as they were told.  Peter watched them from his position on the bed and leaned up on his elbows.

“See ya later, Pete…” said Ned placing the bag on the floor near Peter.

“Yeah, see you guys…and thanks by the way.”

“Don’t scare us like that again or I’ll make you study for decathlon by yourself for a month.” MJ threatened.

"Noted." Peter replied with a small smile.

She nodded curtly and the two made their way out the door leaving Peter with the Nurse. She turned towards him minutely, her hand poised over the keyboard.

“Your name, Sugar?” asked the nurse in a southern accent.

“Peter Parker.”

The Nurse looked him up in the school database and Peter sat up with one leg on the bed.

“You don’t have to call anyone… I’m fine.”  Said Peter watching her pick up the landline and dial May’s number, her back to him.

“You’re lucky you woke up, otherwise, you’d be out of here on a gurney, Parker,” She said waiting for someone to pick up the phone. He sighed and looked away. No one answered, and she tried again. She sighed too, and put down the phone as once again, May neglected to answer. 

The nurse then turned to him and shook her head.

“Didn’t I tell you to lay down? I don’t need you falling again.”

He fell back down onto the green recovery couch, obediently. She grabbed a thermometer from the wall and used the office chair to roll over to him.

“I need to take your temperature.” She held up the thermometer and scanned it across his forehead. She recorded it on a sheet of paper.

“Really, this isn’t necessary-,” complained Peter.

“Then care to explain to me why you suddenly played dead out there in the hallway?” she asked, not looking up from her work.

“I just forgot to eat breakfast this morning…”

“Mmhm. You know you have to eat breakfast, Parker. Three meals a day at least.”

“…I know”

“Here,” she stood up and went to a nearby cabinet and pulled out a sleeve of saltines and a juice box from the mini fridge nearby.

“We need to bring up your blood sugar.” Giving them to him. He sat up and stabbed the juice, munching on crackers. The nurse sat back down.

“Your Aunt isn’t answering. Do you have anyone else we can call?”

“Um, yeah. Here.” He said, then gave her Tony’s contact information. He hoped Tony wasn’t in an important meeting and wouldn’t mind coming to get him. Tony answered on the first ring.

* * *

 

“Mr. Stark, it’s nice to finally meet you in person.” the nurse said professionally, standing and holding out her hand for Tony to shake.

“You too, Ms.….?”

“Dasia.”  
“Dasia, do I need to fill anything out?”

She shook her head.

“No, but I need you to take this incident report and be aware that he did fall unconscious briefly due to low blood sugar. No fever, but I did give him food to bring up that up. He was saying that he skipped a few meals so if you can monitor that as well.”

She said handing him the paperwork.

“Right, I will.

He said looking it over.

“So, uh, where’s the kid?”

Peter looked up from his phone at the mention of his name, finishing the juice box. He had missed Mr. Stark’s entrance entirely, maybe the unintentional fasting was getting to him.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Hey, kid.” Tony said one hand in his pocket, the other fiddling with his sunglasses. “You ready?”

“uh… yeah. Did you sign me out?”

“I’m about to,” He sniffed. “Grab your stuff, let’s go.”

“Okay.” 

* * *

 

Back at the compound, Tony Stark sat on the pristine white couch; a weary teenager across from him. The car ride upstate had been awkward and tense. Tony broke the silence.

“You know you have to eat, Peter.”

“I know…” said Peter, picking at his jeans.

He sat at the very edge of the white couch, afraid to ruin such an expensive piece of furniture with his mere existence.  

“Then what’s problem? Time? Money?”

“I just... forgot.” He said, unwilling to unload all his problems onto his mentor.

Tony had enough to deal with, he didn’t need Peter to whine about how unfairly he felt he was being treated. She was rightfully punishing him, as she should. He knew what he did wrong. Besides, May had to come around eventually, she couldn’t be angry forever, Peter was sure.  
“You just...forgot?" he said with one eyebrow raised in disbelief. 

"You know your metabolism is higher than normal, Pete. Plus, you’re a kid. You need that shit to grow."

He picked up his phone and started to dial.

"Speaking of- what do you want? I’m getting Chinese.”

“You really don’t need to Mr. Stark-”

“Shut up. You want noodles?”

Once the food had arrived, Tony put it all on the coffee table sitting back onto the couch. Peter slid to the floor unwilling to risk spilling something on the couch.

“I didn’t know these guys delivered,” exclaimed Peter.

“They do for me,” replied Tony, shoving rice into his mouth with chopsticks, uncaring as a couple of grains landed on the clean sofa. Peter should have guessed. Once he had eaten his weight in food, he felt slightly queasy, but it went away as his stomach finally accepted the nutrients it had been starved of. He put down the container and wiped his face with a nearby napkin.

“So, I need help putting the parachute back in my suit. I forgot to put it back in since I was dropped in that lake.”

“I thought we already did that?”

“No.”

God help me, Tony thought blanching. The thought of Peter falling again, but this time without a parachute? This kid was going to make him prematurely grey.

“Alright,” Tony said, finishing off the beef broccoli. “Let’s go do that. Now. Before I have an aneurysm and die due to stress.” He shook his head in disbelief.

Peter just smiled at his mentor’s exaggeration. Tony was too overprotective—obviously, Peter could handle himself! But maybe, occasionally, he could let Tony watch out for him too.

 

* * *

 

“See ya, Happy,” said Peter climbing out of the car as Happy dropped him off. “and thanks for the ride home, again!”

Happy simply waved and began the long drive back to the compound. Peter, too, began the long trek up seven flights of stairs because unfortunately, the elevator was down for maintenance. This annoyed Peter to no end, as now he had to burn off the calories he’d eaten earlier, calories he needed to survive! He brushed it off and walked into his apartment—but he had no idea how much he would come to regret this decision; because what would happen next would change his entire life.

May turned around as soon as she heard the front door closed. Peter nearly flinched at the amount of fire in her eyes.

“Where the _fuck_ were you?” she questioned.

Her left hand clutched a glass of red wine, when had May started drinking again?

“I…I was with Mr. Stark.” he stuttered, shocked at the aggression he walked in to.

“You were-” she cut herself off and took a deep breath. “You were with Stark?”

“Yes?" he said as if it was obvious.

“Okay, so you were with Stark for the past, what, 6 hours? You expect me to believe that?”

“It’s the truth!”

“If it was true, then why didn’t you call me!?” she asked shrilly, her anger rising. The wine sloshed wildly, threatening to drip out of the cup as she waved her arms in anger.

“I told you, I did! You didn’t answer!” now Peter was yelling too, trying to get his point across. He angrily brushed past her, further into the living room, tossing his backpack onto the couch.

“Don’t you walk away from me, Peter! Come here!”

Peter groaned in annoyance and turned around, facing May who now stood in front of the entrance. He put his arms in front of his chest defiantly.

“ _What_ ”

“Don’t you take that tone with me, young man! I have put up with this disappearing _bullshit_ for too long! Give me the fucking suit.”

“No.”

“Give it to me, _now_!”

“ _No_!”

“Peter! Goddammit! Fucking _listen_ to me and give me the _fucking_ suit!”

“ _No_ , Aunt May!”

May almost pulled her hair out in frustration.

“Where do you keep it?”

Peter shook his head and remained silent. May pushed past him and stomped into his bedroom after setting the wine on the coffee table.

“May!”

Peter ran in after her.

“What are you doing?”

May was opening his drawers and closet, tossing his clothes onto the ground. She moved to the desk and pushed everything across his desk and onto the floor. Searching.

“Where the fuck is it?”

“What are you talking about? Stop it! May, you’re messing everything up!”

She shook out his blankets throwing them to the floor too; a candy wrapper, a pencil, and a balled-up piece of paper falling to the ground.

“ _May_!”  

“Is it in your backpack?” she demanded.

“What-No! May! Stop, please!”

May did not stop and continued steamrolling through the apartment, Peter rushing behind her.

She reached his backpack and dumped it on the ground, school supplies flying everywhere. Peter sighed exasperatedly.

"May, _stop_.” 

May spun around on her heels, getting up close to him. He stumbled back onto the couch, leaning back in surprise. 

“ _No_ , Peter! I can’t _stand_ you fucking _lying_ to me anymore!” she yelled, her anger determining her actions.

“But, _wasn’t_! I swear! I wasn’t patrolling! I was with Mr. Stark!” he shouted back.

His tone softened.

“May, you’re drunk. You need to calm down,”

But the fire in her eyes only grew, angrier that Peter would insinuate that she was drunk; still, Peter continued not noticing.  
“I know your mad, May, and you should be. I lied to you and I kept secrets. But I can’t stop being Spider-man! He’s a part of me!”

May’s fragile resolve crumbled. Her hand raising, striking him swiftly across the cheek, his head snapping the side. The skin began to sting and heat up. Peter stared up at her in shock his trembling hand coming up to his cheek. 

“Don’t even mention him…you goddamned mutant.” 

She grabbed her keys and stalked out the front door angrily slamming it behind her.

Aunt May had hit him. She hit him. She had slapped him across the face and called him a mutant like he was worth nothing. His eyes welled up and tears began to fall swiftly down his face. He sobbed softly, covering his mouth with his hand roughly to stop the sound. He brought his knees to his chest hugging them and hiding his face. He curled the other hand in his hair for comfort. No one had ever hit him out of malice as Peter Parker, not someone who loved him. Not his mom, not his dad, not his uncle, and never his aunt. Not until now. He curled into himself, shaken. Tears dripping down his face into his lap as the sound of his muffled sobs echoed in the silence.


	6. The Startling Truth

Chapter 6- The Startling Truth

THURSDAY EVENING

After what felt like hours later, Peter wiped his eyes and tried to regain composure. He stood from the living room couch and walked into his room sniffling, softy closing the door.

He briefly considered calling Ned, but he didn’t want to bring his friend into it. It wasn’t as if Ned wouldn’t know exactly what to do- his friend was good like that. He just didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. Not that he could necessarily hold a conversation at the moment—his voice constantly being interrupted with the occasional hiccuping sob no matter how hard he tried to stop. It annoyed him to no end. He couldn’t stop crying, like an angry toddler who couldn’t be soothed.  He tossed off his shoes aggravatingly and flopped onto the bed still dressed in his school clothes and buried his face into his pillow. 

After a while, his tears slowed down leaving his face warm and his nose stuffed, but most of all, he felt utterly exhausted. He shuffled under his blankets and welcomed sleep.

* * *

 

FRIDAY

He woke up the next morning to his alarm blaring next to him. It made his head pound with every beep and he slammed it off. He groaned and rolled onto his back, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and started to get ready for the long day of school ahead. He walked out of his bedroom after struggling to put his clothes on while still half asleep and went into the kitchen. What he saw made him stop in his tracks.

It was May hovered over the stove and flipping a giant chocolate chip pancake, the one thing she almost never burned. His mouth watered, and he rubbed his stomach which suddenly growling with agonizing hunger. He hadn’t eaten since lunch with Mr. Stark yesterday. His heart began to speed up with a sudden trickle of fear at seeing May again since the incident; but he forced it down and pushed himself into the little kitchen.

Ignoring May and her delicious breakfast, he opened the fridge with a dull hope to find something he could eat and was happy that although all the food was labeled, the milk at least, was spared. And cautiously poured himself a generous cup and sat down at the table to sip at his breakfast. The air in the room was so tense he found himself trembling slightly in anxiety. May turned around holding a plate of freshly made pancakes and saw him at the table. A strange look crossed her face.

“Good Morning, Peter. I didn’t see you walk in.”

“Morning, May…” he said, looking in interest at the kitchen table.

“I made pancakes.” She said, then proceeded to serve him the small stack.

The smell was heavenly, and he was starving. He was about to eat out of instinctual hunger when a little voice in his head began to speak. What if this was a trick? What if she was going to take them away? Would May do that to him? He looked at her carefully for any hint of deception and she nodded her head.

“Eat, Peter. They’re for you.”

It was all the persuasion he needed, and he dug in with renewed vigor. She sat down across from him and watched him eat, a calculated expression on her face. When he was done she asked him, “Would you like some more?”  
“Can I?” he asked with a pleading voice.

With a metabolism like his and being a teen aged bottomless pit, the first couple of pancakes only made a small dent in his hunger. She only smiled knowingly and picked up his plate. It was as if last night had never occurred. Maybe she wasn’t angry with him anymore. Maybe she came to her senses and realized what responsibilities he had as Spider-man! Maybe they could once again, return to normal.

“Of course, you can.”

Peter was ecstatic. She returned to her place across from him at the table after giving him his second plate.

“Peter, we need to talk. About last night.” She began.

Peter’s good mood vanished in a flash and his stomach began to churn with anxiety. He thought this was over with. He thought there would be no talk of last night, not now, not ever. He thought they would just put this behind them and act like it never happened. He put down his fork, no longer hungry. He sipped on his milk in an attempt to soothe the burning feeling pooling in his stomach. It worked somewhat.

“I am so sorry,” she said.

Peter just looked at her in shock. _What?_

“What?”

 “I’m sorry. I regret what happened last night. I lost my temper. I was just so angry that you wouldn’t give me the suit and I lashed out. I mean, if you had just given it to me, I wouldn’t have had to hit you like that. I never want to have to do that to you ever again. I was hoping these pancakes would be a sort of peace offering?… Please say you forgive me, I couldn’t live knowing you wouldn’t forgive me for this tiny mistake.” She explained a sad look on her face.

Peter didn’t know what to say. He was not expecting this.

“…of course, I forgive you.” He replied.  “How could I not? You’re my aunt. I love you. I’m...i'm sorry I made you so angry…” he frowned.

 She smiled gratefully and stood up to give him a hug. He returned it and she kissed his forehead.

“Thank you for forgiving me, Peter. I love you, too.”

He left for school in a great mood that morning, May apologized which she didn’t have to do—he would have forgiven her anyways. That’s what family was for. He proceeded to have a great day at school, as well. He got an A on a chemistry test, an A in advanced trigonometry, there was pizza for lunch and he and Ned planned a movie/Lego night on Saturday which he was very excited for. Finally, everything was looking up, not even Flash had bothered him in a while.

* * *

 

He walked home that afternoon with renewed energy until he walked into the apartment. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end and a tense ball of dread began to form in the pit of his stomach as he opened the front door. May was sitting on the living room couch with the TV on and a bottle of red wine at her feet. Peter wondered if this was now going to become a thing. He knew she had begun to drink after Ben had died, but she'd stopped. It looked as if that habit was coming back now. It made Peter feel uneasy.

She held a full glass of red wine in her right hand as she watched the news. He was about to walk into his bedroom to put his things down when he heard a word from the television that caused chills to run up his spine. _Mutant_. He turned around and lively newsroom music played as Peter watched from the hallway. 

“Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, we have a very important guest here to talk to you about how to stay safe out there.” The reporter announced. He shuffled his papers and turned to the man next to him.

“This is Doctor Jonathan Bates, we’ll let him explain”

“Thanks Bill, pleasure to be here. So, Bill, what you know of mutants?” a suited man asked. Peter bristled.

“Well, I like to think I know some. I know of the avengers—surely, that counts?” replied the reporter.

“Indeed, it does Bill. A mutant is a genetically enhanced being, which means they can do things you and I could never even think of doing. Things like lifting a car, flying, becoming invisible or something of the like.”

The reporter nodded knowingly.

“But mutants are dangerous! With enhancements like these, all sorts of damage can be done. Think of 2010—downtown New York.”

“Dark time for the city, John.”  
“Precisely. It’s why our government wants these individuals under control; these _things_ are very dangerous! Many people died in New York that day, Bill, as you know. Collateral damage they say, but family—we say. Think of places like Sokovia. Thousands killed! Did you know, the correlation between cause of death and mutants in the past year is an all-time high?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“That’s why it’s important that if you have any knowledge of the whereabouts of a being like this, you need to call the NYPD at once. Even an anonymous call-in, could save lives. Don’t let them sneak up on you, folks, you never know who could be next. These creatures could live right under your nose, could be your neighbor! Could be your babysitter-- would you want someone like that close to _your_ kids? Bill, it could even be closer to home—a family member with a big secret. If you know anything… please, New Yorkers, keep this city—and your families, safe.”

“Thank you, John. If you have any knowledge-”

Peter stopped listening and looked at May. She looked angry…. really angry. He wasn’t sure what to do and remained as he was, he shuffled nervously. Slowly, May put down her glass on the coffee table. She stood up and laid her murderous eyes on him. Drunkenly she walked over to him. They were the same height, but Peter felt towered over as his body instinctively cowered.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” the rage pouring off her in waves. 

“I-”

“No. Shut up.”

Peter did.

“I am asking why the fuck are you here in general. Why did they leave you here—with _me_? Why me? Why Ben? Why aren’t you in foster care, huh? Who said we ever wanted you here?”

The wine altered her train of thought and destroyed any sort of filter she might have had. Peter remained silent, only watching her as she poured her anger down on him.

“You know, we never wanted kids, me and Ben.” She continued, a new thought occurring to her.

“We were saving that money; maybe a vacation, you know he worked so hard.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “He’s dead now though. And he left me. All alone…”

“May-”

She slapped him hard across the face. The tears began to run down her face, ruining her makeup and causing her mascara to smear. Peter held his quickly reddening cheek.

“Why weren’t you there?” she asked suddenly.

 “With your fucking _mutant-y powers_ , you could have done something. Anything. And he would still be here…” she paused and searched his face.

“Why wasn’t it _you_ instead?”

Peter felt like he had been punched in the gut. And to be honest, it probably would have been less painful. He told himself these sentiments every day, but it wasn’t nearly the same thing to find out his only family thought them too. He watched as Aunt May went back to the couch and sat back down, flicking the TV off and running her hands roughly through her hair. The constant hum the TV had given off silencing, instantly making the apartment eerily quiet. 

* * *

 

Peter quickly turned around and pushed his way into his bedroom. He closed the door quietly and stood in the middle of his room, unsure of what to do next. He dropped his backpack to the ground with a loud thump and sat down on the bed, replaying the argument in his head a hundred times over.

He came to a conclusion—Aunt May was right. She had every right to be angry with him, he had barged into her and Ben’s life with no notice and he stayed. He _deserved_ to be hit. Now and a hundred times over. He thought they were okay with him living with them, happy even, but he realized that no one would be happy to take care of someone else’s kid forever. Then he got powers and couldn’t even protect them, how could he protect anyone else? What was wrong with him? He was surprised it took this long for him to realize how May really felt. How long it took for him to realize the truth. 

His self-depreciating thoughts continued, bulldozing through everything. He wondered if Mr. Stark was angry with him too, he probably was. Peter couldn’t think of a good reason for him to be angry with him lately, but he knew he annoyed Mr. Stark. He burdened him too much; asking for help all the time, annoying him with his rambling and questions, calling and texting Happy with whatever he could think of just to get noticed like some little kid...They probably couldn’t stand him.

A thought struck him, if May, Uncle Ben, Mr. Stark and Happy all hated him, then surely everyone else did too. His friends probably felt guilty for the orphan kid, pretended to like him out of obligation so he wouldn’t find out that he was really alone. Pity for the scholarship student whose parents were dead…He wished he could disappear.

He reached under his bed and pulled out a stuffed bear, one his mother had given to him before she and his father had left. A toy he hadn’t seen since he was five and he had been told his parents had died.

 He hugged it—attempting to gather some comfort like he had as a small child and curled up on the bottom bunk of his bed. The scratchy fur and plastic eyes and nose dug into the sensitive skin on his face, but he ignored it. He pretended this bear loved him, squeezing it to his chest in distress. If this bear loved him, then he knew at least one person in the world truly cared about him.


	7. The Stuffed Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING- MAJOR PANIC ATTACK!! PLEASE, BE AWARE IN THE PLOT OF THIS CHAPTER, THERE IS A DETAILED DESCRIPTION OF A MAJOR PANIC ATTACK!! KEEP YOURSELF SAFE AND KNOW WHAT YOU CAN HANDLE. Thanks.

*****TRIGGER WARNING- MAJOR PANIC ATTACK*****

 

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

 

* * *

 

Chapter 7- The Stuffed Bear

SATURDAY

The amount of labeled food in the kitchen had lessened considerably; for this, Peter was grateful. He wondered if it was due to May's forgetful nature or negligence to buying more food. What he wasn’t grateful for though, was the amount of alcohol in the apartment increasing. Wine glasses half full and toppled over in the sink, bottles of unfinished liquor cluttered the counters and boxed wine sitting in the fridge.

Peter navigated his way around these things and poured himself a bowl of unmarked corn flakes—not the best tasting cereal, but certainly an upgrade from the ‘nothing’ he had been eating lately. He sat down at the kitchen table, his new friend sitting in the chair next to him. It’s presence reminding him of a kinder time.

_May sat across from five-year-old Peter Parker after presenting him with a pancake. It had a whipped-cream smile, a raspberry nose and blueberries for eyes. The little boy hugged a stuffed bear to his chest, the red ribbon around its neck tickling him. He had received it a week ago, before his parents had befallen tragedy and now he refused to let go of it, never letting it out of his sight. Peter looked at the pancake and to May’s encouraging eyes and kind smile before him, she had tried so hard to make him happy. Burnt five pancakes before she finally succeeded! She didn’t know, however, that you weren’t supposed to put whipped cream on a hot pancake or it would melt instantly. The whipped-cream smile had withered, but the idea of a smile remained. Peter’s sad mood lightened somewhat and May counted it as a triumph her eyes twinkling and the drying pancake mix on her cheeks cracking._

_“Why doesn’t your bear sit her next to you, Petey?”_

_Peter hesitated._

_“Can he have some pancake, too?”_

_He asked quietly._

_“Of course,” May answered standing to make a pancake for both herself and the toy. Behind her, she could hear Peter stand and pull the chair out for the bear. He set the toy down and climbed back to his original spot. The cutlery clicked as he began to eat._

Peter shook the memory away and continued to eat mechanically through his cereal. The real Aunt May walked into the room and started making coffee. She turned around and frowned at the bear sitting at the table.

“No toys at the table, Peter.” She said, crossing her arms.

He pulled the bear to the floor in embarrassment and hid it under his chair.

“I thought you were over that thing? In fact, I swore you threw it out.”

Peter said nothing and poked at his cereal. He _had_ thrown it out, years ago. But he dug it out of the trash the same day from guilt and tossed it under his bed. Peter, himself, was confused as to why he suddenly felt attached to it again.

May poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down in the vacant spot the bear had left. She sat, scrutinizing him and he wilted under her gaze but said nothing more. She finished her coffee and went back into her room, Peter watching her leave.

 He stared back down into his bowl of now soggy cereal and sighed. His heart twisted and his stomach churned at the thought of how horrible the weekend could go now that he had no school. It would be just him and Aunt May for forty-eight hours.

The weekend however, was not as bad as he thought it would be, he barely ever saw May. She was either holed up in her room or went out to who knows where. All he knew was that when she came back, she reeked of alcohol. His enhanced senses allowing him to smell the stench from before she even walked through the front door. At least, he thought, he had a warning of when she was coming. During those times, he would drop whatever he was doing, such as homework or eating, to run and lock himself in his room, fear overtaking him. He didn’t want to be caught with a drunk May again.

On Sunday night, May had surprised him though, walking through the door earlier than she had on Friday and Saturday. Peter, shocked, instantly dropped his cup of water. The cup smashed onto the kitchen tiles and water splashed onto the legs of Peter’s pajama pants. The loud crash attracting her attention like a terrifying monster when the victim stepped on a twig during the intense horror movie Peter had watched that evening. He hopped over the mess, his mind instantly switching into fight or flight mode, and sprinted into his room locking the door shut.

            This is silly, his mind told him, he was a superhero, he could fight. But he immediately recoiled, this wasn’t a bad guy! This was his aunt; she was his family! He could never fight May. She was all he had left. He would never hurt her. She pounded on the door and he gulped, stepping back and sitting on his bed to stare at the door.

“Let me in Peter! You have to pay for what you’ve done to this family, you worthless piece of shit! For not saving my husband! For letting him die! You deserve to be in his place! You _mutant_! You useless _creature_! How could you have let him die? Why weren’t you _there_!?!”

She screeched through the door, Peter could imagine her face turning red in fury. He covered his ears with his hands in an attempt to block out the words, but he could still hear _everything_. He stared and eventually, she had started crying and slid down the bedroom door. Still sobbing and pounded the door lightly with an aching fist. She wept and Peter did nothing. He simply sat on his bed covering his sensitive ears and watched the clock with anxious and worried eyes.

 It was midnight when she finally stopped, simply sitting against front of the door in exhaustion. He heard her sniffle, stand, and thankfully, _finally,_ walk away. He laid down on the bed and hugged his teddy bear, his only companion—the only one who cared, and crawled under the covers; burrowing into them like they would protect him. He fell asleep trying to convince himself that the alcohol was why May was so angry, not him. She didn’t _really_ hate him. Right? In the end, he didn’t believe himself.

* * *

 

MONDAY

He woke up many times during the night, feeling antsy and restless. Every noise made him jump awake but he was so exhausted from stress that he fell asleep almost as soon as he determined there was no threat. By the time his alarm rang he felt as if he had gotten no sleep at all. The anxious feeling however, did not fade. He checked the behind the bedroom door as he got dressed, half expecting to find May waiting for him. But she wasn’t there.

 He prepared himself some unmarked cereal as he had all weekend and sat at the table facing the doorway, preparing himself. No threat ever came though and May seemed to still be sleeping. He wondered if he should bring her water for the hangover she would most definitely have, but decided against it for fear of awakening the beast inside her.

On his way out the door, he grabbed his house key, an unmarked granola bar for later, and a spare jacket. A sense of dread filled the pit of his stomach. He was forgetting something. Something very important. He began to sweat and breathing became more difficult. He was going to be alone. He was going to school and his fake friends would be there and he would be all alone! Alone. Alone. _Alone_! He felt cold and too hot at the same time. May hated him and he knew his ‘friends’ did too, and no one cared about him. He couldn’t do this. What was he going to do? No one cared. No one. Except… someone did.

 He rushed into his room and grabbed the stuffed animal off the unmade bed. His thoughts promptly calmed and he breathed deeply. He wasn’t alone. His parents cared about him, his parents loved him, this bear was proof of that. He shoved the teddy bear deep into his backpack and covered it with the coat and a book then zipped up his companion. His newfound separation anxiety overruling his fear of it being discovered that he, a fifteen-year-old boy, carried a stuffed animal around.

He went to school with no further issues about the bear now that it was close to him at all times. At school however, it seemed like today was just not his day. He took a pop quiz which he felt he wasn’t ready for and Ned was slightly annoyed with him for skipping out on the Lego/movie day they had planned Friday. But in his defense, avoiding May had been a top priority all weekend and it had slipped his mind.

Ned wasn’t angry for long though and by the time lunch rolled around, he had already forgiven Peter, telling him that he was sure Peter had lots of Spider-man responsibilities he probably had to attend to. Peter simply agreed even though he hadn’t been in the suit in days. He hoped nothing had happened while he was away and felt guilty that he had been neglecting his duties. He promised himself that he would go out soon—people needed him! But… did they really? He couldn’t even save Uncle Ben… He pushed that thought away. Uncle Ben was the reason he was doing this in the first place.

* * *

 

Gym rolled around pretty quickly and Peter didn’t break a sweat, no matter how hard he tried. Before the bite, gym had never been his strong suit. Now, however, he struggled to keep up the façade and look like nothing had changed.

He noticed Ned had a hard time in the class too, and attempted to copy what his friend was doing. If Ned breathed hard after running a mile around the squeaky gym floor, then Peter did too. If Ned could do only one and a half pull ups on the high bar, then Peter could only do two and a half. If Ned could only do ten crunches while Peter held down his legs, then by god, Peter could do fifteen.

Once gym was over, he had not even worked up a sweat, Ned however looked like he would keel over at any minute. Peter held his friend steady until he was breathing calmly again and together they walked back to the boy’s locker room. The room was loud with teenage boys all showering and changing their clothes. Making lewd jokes to one and other. Peter and Ned ignored them and changed back into their school clothing after awkwardly showering as well. It was when Peter was tying his shoes when he heard it.

“Bro, did you watch the news on Friday?” exclaimed a boy putting on his shirt.

“Uh, no. No one watches the news except you, man.” Answered Flash.

“My mom was watching it! Anyway, they were talking about the Avengers.”

“What? Why?”  
“Yeah. They were talking about how if you see a mutant, you’re supposed to call it in and stuff. Like-.”

Peter’s hands froze and he stopped listening to the boy’s conversation. He was back at home and May was yelling at him again. He could feel the rage come off her in waves and he couldn’t breathe. His chest was heaving and he didn’t know where he was. He fell backwards, his foot slipping off the bench and his back hitting the lockers behind him with a crash as he fell to the ground.

A hush fell over the locker room and everyone was watching him. He held his head in his hands and his heart felt like it was going a hundred miles an hour. His hands were sweaty and he felt much too hot in his sweater.

“Are you okay, Pete?” a question from his right.

He flinched away violently from the hand that had extended to help him up and almost fell over onto the concrete. Oh no. He was suffocating. The air was too hot and thick. There were too many people here. They were too close, much too close. He stood up and grabbed his backpack, then without a second thought, he bolted from the room.

“ _The bell hasn’t rung yet, Penis!_ ” an annoyed Flash called out to him.

Peter ignored him. The hallway air was much less stuffy but still not enough and he burst into the nearest bathroom. It smelled bad but it was empty, there was no one there but him. He pushed himself into the largest stall and sat on the ground and curled into a tight ball and pulled off his sweater. His body felt jittery and like he had to do a million things but he couldn’t. He grabbed his backpack and opened it then unburied the toy. He was no longer alone; his parents were here now. This bear was a representation of their love for him. Somebody cared. The tears began. Terror-filled tears rolled down his cheeks. He sobbed into the bears stomach and rocked on the dirty bathroom floor soothingly. He was no longer alone, he repeated to himself. He was no longer alone.  

* * *

 

Finally, he calmed down enough to stop and he could breath again. He sat on the ground with his back to the wall and hugged the bear. The feeling of it's rough fur on his skin was grounding. He suddenly wondered how much time had passed and why no one ever seemed used this bathroom as no one had yet to bother him. The door opened and he stayed still, afraid he’d jinxed it, and his solitary bathroom time would come to an end.

But it was just Ned.

“Peter?”

Peter said nothing. Ned pushed open the stall door and looked at him questioningly. Peter thought he probably looked like a mess. His sweater laid in a heap over his backpack and his button down was wrinkled, his hair was all messed up and curled with sweat, his face was tear-stained and he was holding a teddy bear.

But, Peter said nothing. Simply ignored him. Ned sat down across from him on the grimy tiles with his back to the stall wall, and he too, said nothing. The bell rang for fifth and sixth periods. Still, the pair sat in silence. When the bell rang for seventh period, Ned finally broke the silence.

“Are you okay?”

Peter thought it over. Was he okay? He wasn’t panicking anymore, that had to mean something right?

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He replied, looking past Ned at the wall.

“That’s good. I was really worried when you ran out of gym like that.”

Ned traced a pattern on his jeans with his finger. 

Peter shrugged.

“What happened?”

 “I don’t know. I think it was a panic attack.” He said, dully. He was very tired.

“It looked like one.”  

Peter shrugged again, dismissing it. He yawned. He hadn’t had much sleep last night, and the panic attack had only worsened his exhaustion. He leaned his head against the wall and was seriously considering the idea of sleeping while sitting up in a public restroom—when Ned poked his shoulder.

“Dude, you should go to the nurse and lay down. Tell her that you’re sick or something. You look awful enough that she’ll probably believe it.”

Peter nodded his consent to this plan and Ned took the bear. Peter’s eyes snapped open and he watched wearily as Ned put it back into his backpack. Ned, not even questioning why he had it, or why he brought it to school. Only concerned with not letting Peter make a complete fool of himself in front of the whole school. Ned might be a fake friend, Peter thought, but he was a damn good one. Together the two walked to the nurse’s office once more.

They walked in and the nurse looked up from her computer. She stood up worriedly.

"What's going on, boys?"

Peter rubbed his eyes tiredly as Ned spoke up. 

"Peter was throwing up in the bathroom." he lied. 

The Nurse frowned in sympathy. 

"You want to lay down, Sweetheart?" she asked him. 

"Yes, please." Peter replied quietly and Ned pulled him by the arm to lay down on the recovery couch. Ned set his and Peter's things down on the ground and pulled up a nearby chair to sit between his friend and the nurse. 

Peter rolled onto his side to face them and pillowed his head with his arm before falling fast asleep under the watchful, protective eyes of the school nurse and his best friend.


	8. The Sleepover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I know some of you don't like it, but I gave him the bear because I needed something to give him comfort when May abuses him, it's really so he doesn't hurt himself essentially to give him a more positive outlet when he's emotional.

Chapter 8- The Sleepover

 

Peter was half asleep curled up with his head pillowed on his arm and his blue sweater being used as a blanket to cover him. The nurse had rolled over to take his temperature with her forehead thermometer and was surprised to find he had a mild fever. He deemed that it was probably due to stress. He remained laying down on the plastic mattress and watched the nurse tap on the computer with Ned next to her.

“His name’s Peter. Peter Parker?” Ned told her quietly.

She nodded her thanks and looked up his information in the student database, Ned watched from the uncomfortable blue plastic chair, their backs to Peter. The room was quiet except for her nails clicking the keys and she swiveled in her rolly chair to pick up the landline.

She called his aunt a couple of times and shook her head, clicking her tongue in pity. No one was answering again. Peter felt slightly guilty, like it was his fault Aunt May was neglecting to answer the phone and holding up this kind woman’s time.

She asked Ned about an emergency contact and Ned walked over to Peter’s bag opening it bypassing the bear and his school supplies. Peter watched as Ned located his phone. He smiled lightly at Peter, noticing that he was being watched.

“Sorry, dude, I thought you were sleeping. I was looking for your phone.”

He walked back to the nurse and found Tony’s name calling him and giving it to the nurse when it started to ring.

“Sorry, Sugar. No one’s answering.”

“Did you try Happy?”

“Who?”

Ned took back the phone, and called Happy.

“You know—Tony’s bodyguard.” He replied.

Still, there was no answer and the call went to voicemail. Peter’s heart sank and the small bit of hope he had in him, shattered. No one was coming because no one cared, it was painfully obvious. But then again, why would they? They had much more important thing to do, he was sure. He should have expected this. There was no reason for it to hurt so much.

Ned and the nurse sighed in defeat and the boy walked back to Peter, taking his plastic chair with him. He put the chair next to Peter once more and rubbed his friends arm trying to comfort him. He knew Peter’s self-worth was low, but this had certainly made it worse. He had seen in his friend’s posture and face fall when no one had bothered to answer the phone for him.  The nurse turned toward the boys.

“We’ll wait a while and I’m sure someone will call back. Go to sleep, sweetheart, there's still a bit until seventh period ends.” She told them, directing the last part to Peter. He sighed dejectedly and closed his eyes, still exhausted from earlier. Eventually he fell asleep, his best friend standing guard and texting MJ on his phone.

Peter was woken a little while later when the bell rung loudly and school had ended, MJ had joined them and currently sat at the end of his bed, quietly whispering to Ned. Peter turned on his other side, facing the white wall and scooted his legs closer to his chest so MJ could have more room. They watched him curiously and he ignored them in favor of trying to go back to sleep. In the background, he could hear the nurse trying to call someone again, but ultimately failing to reach anyone. Peter felt an overwhelming sadness rise in him.

“Peter, are you ready to go?” MJ suddenly asked.

He frowned and rolled onto his back and sat up expectantly, had someone finally come for him? Had May set their differences aside in order to get him? Had Tony? But no, it was Ned’s mom who came over to the group, a pitying smile on her warm face.

“Hey, Ned honey, MJ dear.” She kissed Ned on the head and smiled fondly towards MJ. She turned to Peter.

“Peter, how are you feeling?”

Peter shrugged disappointed, then remembering his manners- politely replied.

“Hi, Mrs. Leeds. It’s nice to see you again. I’m okay. How are you?”

She smiled.

“I’m fine, thank you Peter, your'e so polite.” She stood up and walked back to the nurse to speak with her.

Ned’s mom had a big heart, cared for Peter when he came over—as one of her own. Behind her, Ned’s little sister chatted with MJ about how she had painted her nails all by herself, just like her mom did and how her nails were super glossy now. MJ feigned interest and told the little girl that she didn’t have time to paint her nails because she was always too busy, protesting and such, she said. Ned walked back over to Peter.

“No one answered and it started getting late. It’s already three thirty dude, so… I told my mom. I didn’t know what to do," he tried to explain.

“She basically dragged it out of me, when I told her we were waiting for someone to come get you, she totally took over. She was like, I’m on my way right now. And you know my mom, once she gets an idea, nothing can stop her. Besides, she said she was nearby, she was getting my sister from school.”  

Peter only nodded, still exhausted from the day. He shivered and put on his sweater, wiping the gathering sweat from his forehead. He was so cold. The nurse noticed this and walked over to him, picking up the thermometer on her way.

“I’ve been monitoring his temperature,” she told Ned’s mother, “and he had a low-grade fever earlier.”

She ran the object’s sensor across his warm forehead, moving his hair out of the way with her other hand in a maternal fashion.

“But it looks like it’s gone up since then. 101.5” she said, showing her the reading.

Ned’s mom nodded thoughtfully and Peter frowned. He hadn't been sick since the bite, he hadn't known he could get sick.

“I need you to keep an eye on him—and let his aunt know…. if you get a hold of her. Plenty of fluids and rest, too.” He heard the nurse say.

Ned’s mom nodded and took the incident report from her hands.

“Of course.” She replied, “Thank you.”

Then, Mrs. Leeds turned to the group with a small smiled.

“Are you all ready?” she asked picking up her purse from the nurse’s desk.

The group nodded their assent and gathered their things, Ned taking Peter’s bag on his other shoulder. The four children trailed after Mrs. Leeds and packed into her minivan traveling to the Leeds’s house.  MJ and Ned were playfully arguing about something Peter found uninteresting in the third-row seats. In the second row, he stared out the window watching the scenery pass dejectedly, Ned’s sister next to him watching him with a piercing stare. He turned to her curiously.

She took the opportunity to quickly put her small hand on his forehead invading his space. She took her cold hand back just as Peter pulled away.

“Your head feels really hot. My mom does that when I’m sick and she said it means you have a _fever_. When you have a fever, you can’t go to school ‘cause then you’ll get the other kids sick.” She said knowingly.

 “I think you’re sick.”  She continued.

“Yeah?” Peter replied, distractedly. His head was starting to ache.

“Yeah. We’re taking you home. To our house, I mean.” She said as if Peter didn’t already know.

“Your mommy doesn’t want to pick you up, so we gotta do it. Why doesn’t she pick you up? Does she not love you anymore? That’s what happened to this one boy in my class—his mommy got real mad at him and hit him and she stopped coming to get him at school because she didn’t love him anymore. Is that why _your_ mommy didn’t come, because you were bad?”

Peter wondered if anyone else was hearing this. And if they were, why no one was doing anything about it. This conversation was slowly crushing his already fragile resolve and he really didn’t want to talk about this anymore. 

“I don’t know.” He replied truthfully.

Peter went back to looking out the window, ignoring anything else the little girl had to say. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself rubbing his hands up and down his arms trying to produce some warmth. The girl continued, unaware Peter was no longer paying attention. It did nothing to help his head ache. He leaned against the cool glass of the window and wondered if people thought _he_ was this annoying as well. They probably did. He probably should shut up more often if he grated on people’s nerves like this. Why was he so inconsiderate of other people? What was wrong with him? Many things, his mind supplied, and Peter was inclined to agree.

The van pulled into the driveway of the Leeds house and they all jumped out of the van eager to escape the cramped car.

“Hey, guys. Peter, MJ,” Ned’s father greeted once they all entered the large house. 

“Hey, Mr. Leeds…” Peter said weakly and MJ gave him a small smile.

 “I ordered pizza. Don’t tell May.” He said with a wink. Peter gave him a small smile. 

“Yay! Pizza!” yelled Ned’s sister bolting into the kitchen.

 “…Um, thanks for the pizza, Mr. Leeds. But...I’m not really that hungry… Can I just lay down somewhere instead? I’m not feeling all that great and um-” Peter said awkwardly, trying to explain himself without offending Ned’s generous father.

“It’s fine, Peter.” Interrupted Mrs. Leeds with a small smile. “You don’t have to eat just yet, you can lay down here.” She said, showing him to the couch.

“Thank you, Mrs. Leeds. Can I try to call May one more time, though? Just like, real quick?”

She nodded.  
“Of course, Peter, there’s no need to ask. Go ahead.”

Peter stepped out into the hallway and dialed May’s number, he held his breath at every dial tone. When he was sent to voicemail he slid down to sit against the wall next to the door and with baited breath, he tried again. And again. And again. And again. And again. Nothing. No answer. And by the third call, he was already being sent straight to voicemail.

Ned’s mom opened the door and saw him curled up on the ground listening to the voicemail message, she looked at him with concern.

“Did she answer?”

He hung up his phone and sadly shook his head. Her heart ached for him and she led him back inside and onto the couch where he laid down and covered himself in the provided afghan.

“You just go to sleep, okay Pete?”

She said softly and walked back to the kitchen to her family who chatted lively to each other, laughing. In the Leeds’s dark empty living room, Peter wished he could be capable of receiving such happiness and joy—like that which emitted from under the kitchen door. But it was not possible. He was not like them, they were pure, never had they done something as awful as Peter. Never had they become monsters like Peter; a worthless, selfish, creature that deserved to be alone; to be punished for what he had done to his Uncle, his Aunt, and that man in the alley. He fell into a dreamless fevered sleep.

* * *

 TUESDAY

He awoke the next morning sticky with sweat and the dampness of his clothes made him colder. He shivered and looked around the dimly lit room. He noticed a figure on the couch across from him and he suddenly, he had a fear that it was May. That she was angry and had come to punish him again. But it was only MJ. She was laying down quietly reading a novel in the light of a nearby soft lamp. She too, had a blanket similar to his and her hair was messily fanned on the pillow suggesting that she had spent the night as well. He wasn’t at home, he was in…Ned’s living room?

An overwhelming urge to sneeze overcame him and he did so in the crook of his arm.

“I didn’t know you were awake.” Said MJ without looking up from her book. She turned the page.

“I just woke up.” Peter replied. “Where’s my bag?”

She shrugged. “Ned had it last night.”

A pang of fear went through him and he leapt off the couch in one fluid motion. MJ watched as he quietly walked through the house at five in the morning while no one else was awake. He walked down the hallway and into Ned’s room. Looking around the dark room he spotted his bag and after grabbing it, tiptoed out of the room as Ned slept on, unaware of the invasion. 

He walked back to the couch and held the bag close to his chest. He refused to bring out the bear in front of MJ, so this would have to do. She watched him in curiosity.

“What’s so important about the bag?”

His face flushed in embarrassment.

“…nothing.” He replied.

“You know, you’re a terrible liar.” She said and went back to her book.

Peter got out his phone which only had ten percent of battery life left and called May but there was no answer. He sighed and laid back down.

“Peter?”

“Yeah?”

A pause.

“Are you okay?”

Odd, he thought.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She thought for a moment.

“I heard what Ned’s sister was telling you yesterday.”

He hummed and no one said anything more.

* * *

 

When Ned woke up at seven to get ready for school, MJ and Peter were sat at the dining room table eating  lucky charms out of the box. Ned looked at them questioningly until MJ tossed a dehydrated marshmallow at his face. Peter chuckled and tossed a handful of dry cereal in his mouth. Ned picked the marshmallow off the ground and chucked it back, sitting down at the table across from her with a smile.

“Oh, this is war Leeds.” Said MJ tossing back a handful of cereal across the table. He gasped and Peter snickered again pouring some cereal on the table top in front of him and eating more colorful marshmallows.

 Ned leaned over and stole a handful of Peter’s cereal and threw it towards MJ, laughing in excitement. MJ gasped dramatically but smiled largely throwing some back—a huge cereal fight commencing. Peter shielded himself with the cardboard box laughing when his friends turned to him, raining frosted cereal and dehydrated marshmallows into his hair. They ate the ammo and fought playfully getting cereal into the carpets and down their clothes. It was the most fun Peter had had in a long time.

 


	9. The Slaughter of a Bear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the most heart-breaking part of the story. Enjoy!

Chapter 9- The Slaughter of a Bear

TUESDAY MORNING 

The three teens climbed out of the purple minivan that morning and waved goodbye. MJ and Peter thanking Ned’s mother for allowing them to stay over. She, of course, shrugged it off, they were always invited—they brought such joy to her son’s face and it was very interesting to wake up to so much giggling this morning. She was sure her son and his friends had never been more thankful for vacuums in their entire lives.

Ned, Peter and MJ walked into the school building before parting ways to go to class, still feeling giddy from the excitement of the cereal war that morning. Peter opened his locker and shoved his books inside. He bent over and grabbed another book from his bag when his locker closed with a loud slam making him jump out of his skin and drop the textbook which also hit the floor with a bang. Behind the locker was a smug Flash Thompson.

“Hey, Penis.”

“Flash.”

Peter picked up the book he had dropped and crouched to stuff it back into his bag, crushing papers in the process. He didn’t want to go through the trouble of opening the locker again. Flash watched in amusement when something caught his eye. He reached into Peter’s backpack and dragged out the beloved brown bear before Peter had a chance to react.

“Oh my god!” gaped Flash. Peter looked up in horror.

“Peter, you really brought a teddy bear to school?” he began to laugh. “What is this? Fucking  _kindergarten_?”        

Peter felt anger rise in him at Flash for the humiliation of finding and pulling the bear out in public, but pushed the resentment it down. It would be so much worse if people began to notice. No matter how much he wanted to punch Flash in the face, he couldn’t. He didn’t know if he would be able to hold back his strength. He was about to get up and grab it when Flash called out--making him halt.  

“Look what Peter has everyone!” He said mockingly holding the bear up. Peter’s face turned as red as a tomato and the students that were crowding the hallway looked up at the noise. Flash turned to the crowd. They stared in amazement at Peter and the bear. And then began to laugh.

“Oh my god, how lame.”

“He brought that to school?”

“What is this? Preschool?”

“How old does he think he is? Three?”

“Do you think he sleeps with it at night?”  

“Probably”

“What if it’s a sex thing?”

“It’s Peter Parker. You think he’s ever even been laid? I doubt that, dude.”

“Holy shit!”

“Look at his face!”  and Flash did.

Peter was still on the floor of the hallway from packing his bag and he looked absolutely _mortified_. Flash grinned, now it was _Peter_ who was being laughed at. Peter, the golden boy, the scholarship kid, the ‘best in the class’. Not Flash. No, Peter was the center of mortification now. And Flash knew what he had to do. He shrugged off his bag and dug out a scalpel from his Biology kit, a tool he used for dissection in fourth period. Peter didn’t notice, too busy watching the crowd humiliate him.

Peter only looked back up at Flash when he heard a distinct ripping sound. Like fabric being torn apart. Stuffing rained down on him and he began to tremble. The only thing he could think of was how angry and disappointed his parents would be if they knew what he had let happen to the last treasure they had given him. He shouldn’t have brought it to school. He should have kept it safe. Why was he so stupid? He should have left it at home. With the bear now gone, it meant any tie he had to his parents was now gone. Forever. He truly felt like an orphan now. His lip trembled at the thought and his eyes welled with tears. How could he have let this happen?

“Woah, Flash, calm down.”

“That was harsh.”

"What the hell man?"

The crowed murmured. But Flash was so enraptured with making Peter suffer to notice that he had gone too far. Peter hid his face in his hands and curled down into his knees trying to hide in humiliation. The crowd began to disperse in disagreement, no one wanted to see this anymore. No one wanted to watch as Peter Parker crumbled any longer.

The bell rang and the people in the halls had gone to class. MJ and Ned walked in from around the corner looking for Peter as Flash noticed the crowd had gone. His hands fell to his sides in disgruntlement, no one cared anymore. MJ and Ned began to sprint up to the two and surveyed the scene. Peter curled up on the ground trembling his hands curled in his hair, Flash holding the remains of a stuffed animal in each hand and bits of cotton floating down to litter the hallway.

Michelle knew that something about the remains of the stuffed animal had made Peter extremely upset, and she pushed Flash, slamming him into the lockers behind him while holding him by his shirt. Ned landed on his knees next to Peter.

 “Peter?” he asked softly, but Peter didn’t even acknowledge him.

 He shook his head at MJ who had been watching for a reaction. She suddenly punched Flash hard in the nose, breaking it before letting him fall to the ground. Flash cried out and blood spurted out onto the floor. He picked himself up ran to the bathroom. He needed toilet paper to stop the bleeding … plus he was really embarrassed that he was shown up. And by a girl no less.

Back in the hallway, Ned and MJ were worried. They became panicked when Peter took a particularly large breath and let out a sob. MJ rubbed his back in sympathy and Ned ran off to find an adult.

He knew exactly where to go. When Ned came back he was dragging along the Nurse once again. She looked bewildered like he had not explained anything, just took her hand and began to run.

“We didn’t know what to do!" he explained as he jogged back to the pair.

"Me and MJ just came looking for Peter so we could walk to class and Flash was there, and he was humiliating him! And Peter wouldn’t talk to us like he couldn’t hear us when we asked what happened, he just laid there like this!” he pointed to Peter.

“And he just started crying and we were so shocked and I just went and got you because you’re an adult! Right, so you should know what to do." he rambled.

The nurse surveyed the situation and knelt as much as her old knees would allow. She tilted her head in Peters direction.

“Peter?”

He ignored her and continued to sob, hiding his face in his hands. The tears sliding down his palms and onto the tile floor. She scooted closer and rubbed his back as he cried. There was little else she could do and she felt heart-wrenchingly guilty. She wanted to move him from the hallway so he wouldn’t be trampled when the bell rung, but it wasn’t as if she could carry a teenage boy at her age.

Flash came stumbling out of the boy’s bathroom, wads of toilet paper stuffed up his nose. He rushed up to the nurse tapping her shoulder. She turned her head not stopping her ministrations.

“Look what she did to me!” he screeched, pointing at MJ.

"Eugene Thompson, I know you didn't do this, right?" she asked him angrily. 

Flash frowned. 

"What? He deserved it! You know as well as I do, that he did! He's always showing up everyone. I had to show them that he isn't as great as everyone thinks he is."

Michelle glared in response. And the nurse looked pointedly at Peter.

“Look what you did to him.” She replied. "You think that's okay? You think you can do this to people and not have any consequences? How would you feel if someone did this to you?"

Flash took one look at the crying boy on the floor and instantly deflated. He’d never felt so guilty for making fun of Parker before. Peter's shoulders were shaking and Flash looked around at the mess he had made. Surely, Peter wasn’t crying so hard over a toy? It was just a little kid’s toy.

"But, it's a kids toy! Who cares?"

"Obviously, Peter cares, you asshole!" spoke up Michelle.

 But Flash didn’t know, he had no idea what that bear represented, that it was the last thing his parents gave him, that it was how he knew he wasn’t alone in the recent depression he'd fallen into. That someone loved him. That it was the only thing that had been keeping Peter from falling apart—it was what he’d used to keep himself somewhat sane in the chaos that had recently become his life. And Flash had destroyed it…and Peter along with it.

“I didn't…”

“Yeah, I’m sure you did.” She replied dismissively.

The two friends on either of his sides, one enemy in front of him and one nurse to the right of Flash, all circled the boy on the floor and their eyes filled with sympathy. Then the nurse stood up.

“I need to go make a few phone calls, can you all stay here with him?” she asked.

They all nodded.

“And watch that one.” She said looking at Flash angrily. Flash looked down in remorse and she walked away.

Five minutes later, she came back and everyone had remained where they were. Flash sniffed the blood back up his nose as she sat back down on the linoleum.

“Don’t do that” she reprimanded.  “You’re a science-kid, you should know the acid in your stomach will not react well to the blood. It’s a base.”

 “Sorry.” Flash replied.

“I called your father, Eugene. The butler is on his way to take you to the hospital for that nose.”

He nodded solemnly.

Peter had quietened and the Nurse wondered if he had worked himself up so much he’d fallen asleep on the cold hard floor. It wouldn’t be good for his back or his knees. But she didn’t move him for fear he’d fight her and become even more emotionally unstable.

They all looked up when they heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Tony Stark himself was running down the hall and had crashed to his knees next to Flash. Flash, himself, was star-struck; Genius-Millionaire-Tony-Freaking-Stark was here. He was next to him!

“What happened?” Tony asked the group willing anyone to step up. Flash debated running away, but his dad’s butler would be here soon to pick him up. Ned decided to be brave and speak up.

“His teddy bear. Flash destroyed it.”

Tony looked at him in confusion.

“Teddy Bear?”

Ned nodded then gestured to the fluff and fabric around them.

“Okay? Why does he have a teddy bear?”

Everyone shrugged.

“But when Flash destroyed it, he went nuts. He hasn’t talked to us and all he’s done is lay there and cry. It’s really freaked us all out.” Replied Ned.

Tony sighed and looked at the group.

“So, who’s Flash. And why the _hell_ \- did he think this was a good idea?”

MJ and Ned simultaneously pointed at Flash who shrunk away.

“I broke his nose for it.” Said MJ.  
Tony nodded, “Thank you for that. If you get in trouble for it, you call me and I’ll get you out of it. I owe you. You and Ned protected him when I couldn’t.”

Tony then turned to the problem at hand. He shook Peter’s shoulder but got no answer.  
“Peter? It’s time to go home now buddy.”

Peter said nothing and Tony stood up. He sat the boy up and Tony picked him up in a bridal carry, his knees popping under the weight. He was getting old, these days, but that didn't mean he didn't hit the gym. He _was_ Iron Man after all.

Peter sniffled and looked at Tony a look of realization hit him. Tony had come for him.  He wrapped his arms around the inventor’s neck and buried his face in his shoulder.

“Tony.”

“Hey, kiddo” he shifted Peter and turned to the nurse.

“Is there anything I need to fill out?”

She shook her head.

“I can do all that, hon. You just take that sweet-pea and you look after him, ya hear? He was sick yesterday, too. Not even sure what he’s doing here—had a fever.”

Tony nodded.  
“He won’t be here tomorrow, that’s for sure. I won’t allow it. And thanks for taking care of him for me.” He said seriously. “Ned. MJ.”

They nodded back.

“You tell him to call us, okay?” asked MJ, not one to show affection. “I- I mean _we_ … need to know he’s okay.”  
“I’ll make sure to tell him.”

With that he walked out of the building—Peter falling asleep on his shoulder, finally feeling peaceful now that his idol had saved him.


	10. The Sickness

Chapter 10- The Sickness

 TUESDAY AFTERNOON

Tony’s back would not forgive him in the morning, but he didn’t care. That’s what happened when you carried a teenager. The little group sat on the floor and watched him as he walked away —concern in their eyes. These people really cared about Peter, he thought. They had sat on the cold hard floor and watched over him. And he was glad they were there when he couldn’t be. Well, except Flash.

Happy was waiting outside by the car when he caught sight of the pair. He rushed to open the back-door sensing urgency. Tony walked up to meet him and began to detangle himself from Peter so he could give him to Happy or put him down entirely. He had to get into the car before he could take him back. But Peter was not having it, he woke up the instant Tony tried to put him down. But he was not entirely lucid and trapped in his own mind. All he knew was that Tony was leaving him.

He whined and tried to tangle himself around Tony even more. Were they in danger? Was someone trying to take Mr. Stark away from him? …What if Mr. Stark was leaving him on his own volition?  He attempted to cling tighter, slightly worried that he might crush his hero. When Happy noticed this, he sprung into action. He cared for Peter and he knew the kid was in a bad spot, but his top priority was to keep Tony Stark safe. And a child or not, Peter had the strength to suffocate Tony Stark.

The child had managed to wrap both his arms and legs around Tony, clinging to him like an octopus, but Happy found a way in and wrapped his own arms around the kid’s torso affectively ripping him off Tony. He wondered how he had the strength to pull off an enhanced being such as Peter, but he noticed the kid was extremely light. When was the last time he’d eaten? And was he getting enough to keep himself healthy? Especially with an enhanced metabolism like Peters, the kid needed a lot of food to keep up with his strength.

Happy was holding him around the chest, locking his hands together to keep Peter from escaping. But once again, Peter was having none of it. He kicked and scratched and pulled—trying to get back to his mentor. The kid was just short of screaming and Happy really didn’t want that to occur. Tony was standing there, watching Happy in fascination.

“How are you doing that?”

“What?”, Happy asked. Did Tony not realize that he was struggling here?

“He’s extremely strong. Can carry a bus. And yet, you’ve somehow managed to hold him back.”

Tony studied what he was seeing, Happy did look like he was having a hard time, but he hadn’t let go yet. Peter, himself looked like he was getting worn out, slowing down his fight and becoming out of breath. He frowned, he’d never known Peter to ever get out of breath. He shook his head, now was not the time; and sat down in the back of the sedan.

“Give him to me.” he said putting his arms out expectantly—as if he could possibly carry the kid again without hurting himself.

“Thank god.”

Happy replied, relieved, and dragged Peter up to the car, pushing him into Tony and shutting the door. Peter tumbled into the back seat after roughly being tossed in; Tony was not able to catch him and put his arms down. Tony settled himself in before holding one arm out and looking out the window nonchalantly. Peter looked at him confused before putting two and two together. He reorganized himself into the seat and scooted closer to Tony who wrapped his arm around Peter’s shoulders. Peter pulled his legs to his chest and cuddled into his mentor’s side, content to be at least half-held. Happy watched the two get settled in the rearview mirror before beginning to drive. It would be a long way to the compound.

Three hours later Peter was fast asleep tucked into Tony’s side and Tony wondered if getting out would be a repeat of earlier. But the transfer went smoothly. Happy took Peter, who was too out of it to notice and Tony got out of the car. This time however, Tony could not hold his Spiderling again, his joints would not allow it and Happy carried him instead. Tony led them into the compound and wondered what was going on with Peter, the kid was light, weak and his senses hadn’t even woken him up when Happy took him from the billionaire. He wondered if he should get medical involved.

He led them into Peter’s new bedroom and Happy laid the child onto the bed. Tony wasted no time covering him up in the blankets.  Happy removed himself to go properly park the car after finding no danger. Tony, too, left the room after turning out the lights and closing the door. He walked in to the spacious living room and pulled out his phone. He had to call May. There was no answer, so he left her a voicemail then went to his lab after telling FRIDAY to alert him if anything happened.

* * *

 

_Peter was standing in the middle of the street. He saw Mr. Delmar’s shop up in flames and he ran like a shot to jump into the wreckage like the hero he was._

_“Mr. Delmar?” he called, but there was no response._

_“Mr. Delmar? Can you hear me? Where are you?” he tried again, but there was no answer once more. He coughed into his sleeve and his eyes watered._

_There was a loud scream and Peter rushed to the back of the shop. On the floor faced down, was a burning corpse, it’s flesh smoking and blackened. Peter gasped then coughed and gagged as he breathed in the smell of the cooking body. The head of the corpse turned and looked at him, the skin and muscles burning into blackened char. He screamed jumping backwards, as terror of the animated corpse filled him.  It screamed back and Mr. Delmar’s voice came out._

_“Why did you let this happen to me, child?”, it asked._

_Peter wheezed, the smoke entering his lungs. He coughed hard, his chest feeling tight and backed into a shelf, fear overwhelming him._

_“How could you do this to me? Why won’t you save me? Help me, boy!” The skull yelled. The flames behind Peter grew larger and he could hardly breathe._

_“Help me! Why won’t you save me?”_

_Peter didn’t know what to do, besides, there was nothing he could do for Mr. Delmar, the man was char. So, he turned and ran out of the shop leaving the corpse shrieking behind him._

_“Save me! Save me, you wretched boy! Save me, you insolent freak! You disgusting mutant!” it yelled. And Peter didn’t look back._

_When he reached the street, the sky had turned dark with clouds and suddenly it was raining. But it wasn’t raining water, it was raining blood. He felt sick to his stomach, his clothes and hair slick with the dark red fluid, the smell of copper and death sticking to him_ _. The street began to fill and over an inch of blood littered the street like a gruesome kiddie pool. His stomach lurched painfully. The warm blood-rain making him feel extremely hot and nauseated._

_A gunshot rang out and he froze before his hero instincts kicked in running towards the sound, blood splashing up and onto his jeans as he went. It led him to an alley way. And there laid the homeless man, a bullet in his brain, and the woman sitting against the wall with a melted face. Skin rolling off of her like a horrifying candle._

_“Oh god.” She said, blood out spilling from her teeth._

_“Why didn’t you save me?” she asked._

_Peter started running again. “Help me, Freak!” she yelled after him, but Peter only ran faster._

_He tripped and landed in the blood, he quickly got up into a sitting position and noticed that he had tripped over someone. Someone who was lying in the street. He crawled over to it, to try and help, but there was no pulse. Blood gushed out of the corpses’ chest to join that which was rushing through the streets. He scrambled back when the corpse spoke._

_“Peter, my nephew.” It said._

_And Peter noticed it was Ben._

_“Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you. I need help. It hurts—I—I’m dying. I need you.” Peter shook his head in terror, his face turning pale._

_“Save me Peter. Please, help me.” The corpse reached out towards him, it’s face wet from the rain._

_Peter scooted back until he could no longer, his hands scraping on the sidewalk until he reached a wall, it wasn’t nearly as far as he wished he was._

_“Peter, save me.” It wheezed._

_Peter shook his head again curled up against the brick, covering his face with his arms. The blood continued to rain down on him and he felt so impossibly hot. His stomach lurched._

And his eyes flew open, he sat up quickly- sweating but shivering at the same time. Only to immediately throw up onto the blankets.  

* * *

 

Tony was in his lab working on blueprints for the Mark 50 when FRIDAY alerted him to a detected stress in Peters room. He rushed into the elevator and onto the correct floor, cursing how large he had made the compound. He opened the door and immediately regretted it, the smell of sickness hitting him. He looked towards the massive bed and saw Peter gag then harshly begin vomiting onto the previously clean sheets.

“Holy shit!” Tony exclaimed and ran into the connected bathroom to grab the trash can, rushing to put it under Peter’s mouth just as he coughed and another round of sick poured out. Tony really did not want to see this and turned his head away, still holding the bucket for the sick child.

Peter coughed, spitting then moved away from him. He trembled and looked immensely pale. Tony grimaced.

“Alright kid, you done?”

Peter only nodded.

“Okay, uh, let’s get you out of that mess…” Tony said, half- dragging Peter out of the bed.

Peter simply complied, feeling overwhelmingly battered and cold now that the sweat had begun to cool. He shivered, his teeth slightly clacking together. Tony noticed then put his hand on Peter’s forehead.

“Well, you’re definitely sick, high fever too. Didn’t know you could get sick, but you just had to prove me wrong didn’t you?” he asked. “Maybe I should take you down to medical…”

Peter looked at him with glassy wide eyes and shook his head with a burst of clarity.

“No, no, no, no- no medical.”

“Kid, I don’t know how to do this kind of stuff…” Tony frowned, removing his hand after Peter grimaced from the cold.

“No medical. I want _you_ to do it.” Said Peter, slowly losing the previous alertness.

Tony rolled his eyes, he could never say no to the boy. He then attempted to continue leading Peter by the hand to the on-suite.

“Fine, but if you get any worse, we’re going. And FRIDAY, I need you to call someone to clean this mess as soon as possible.”  

“Will do, boss.”

“Thanks. And can you order some ginger ale and crackers while you’re at it? I think we’re out.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tony turned on the bathroom light and Peter squinted, why were they in a bathroom? He didn’t need to go.

“Yeah, well, squirt. You’re still in your school clothes and covered in vomit. You might not need to pee, but you, one hundred percent, need to shower. I’m not letting you into my beds like this. Besides, we need to get that fever down. As much as you and I are going to hate this, I’m going to have to stay here to make sure that happens and so you don’t slip in shower in this _deliriousness_ you have going. Sit down _on the ground_ and I’ll go get some clothes for you to change into.”

Tony left after pushing down on Peter’s shoulders until the kid was sitting on the tile. Peter was slightly annoyed that Tony didn’t trust him to even _stand_ and wait, but also grateful he didn’t have to take care of himself, he felt really awful. Suddenly, Tony was back with spare pajamas and a towel laying them on the counter.

Peter watched him confusedly from the floor and shivered. How was he so quick? Was Tony a mutant, too? A freak—like he was? Tony sat down on the lid of the toilet.

“Mr. Stark? Are you super-fast? Do you have powers too and you never told me?”

“What? No—Damn kid, how high is this fever?”

Peter tried to hide his disappointment but failed miserably. Tony looked at him in concern for a moment, but it passed.

“103.5 degrees Fahrenheit. He is slightly delirious due to the fever. Medical assistance is suggested.” Stated FRIDAY helpfully.

“Jeeze.” Said Tony, “You never do things halfway, do you kid? At this point, I’m probably talking to myself.”  
Peter said nothing and looked at him, confused. Tony sighed reaching forward and taking Peter’s shoe. He began unlacing it.

“You know, you really should learn to tie your shoes properly. Who taught you to do this? It’s shameful, really. When you’re feeling a bit better, I’ll show you.”

He tossed the shoe aside then began on the other.

“This is ridiculous.” He said, pulling at the stubborn knot. “Well, actually I don’t know what’s more ridiculous, me thinking you might actually be listening or you tying your shoes like this. Who does this?” he said, frustrated. In the end, he simply pulled the shoe off, tossing it with the other.

“You know, you could be more helpful.” He told the boy, but Peter stayed quiet. Tony turned on the shower head to spray lukewarm water.

“You never shut up—I don’t know if I like this change or not.” He jibed then pulled off Peter’s pants, shirt and socks. He left the boxers on to keep what was left of Peter’s shattered dignity.

“Yeah, we’re going to leave it at that.” said Tony, then held out his hands.

“Come on, up you go. I refuse to carry you anymore today.” Peter looked up, confused.  
“Peter’s internal temperature is rising. Currently, 104 degrees. Medical attention will soon be required.” Stated FRIDAY.

“Alright, Pete, that’s almost emergency room temperature. Now, I know you really hate going to medical so you’re going to have to help me out here. Come on.” Peter complied and reached up grabbing his arms and pulling himself to his feet.

“I don’t want to go to medical…” he said drowsily.

“And we might not have to. Alright, in you go.” Replied, Tony helping him into the spray and sitting him down on the tub floor. As soon as the cool water hit him, he instinctively tried to get out.

“Cold.”

“It’s not that cold, Peter. Besides, we have to get that fever down. You don’t want that big brain of yours to cook.” Replied Tony pushing him back in. Peter shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, his skin covered in goosebumps. After a few minutes of watching Peter violently tremble of cold in the cool spray, FRIDAY alerted them.

“Internal temperature has lowered to 103 degrees.”

“Alright then, time to get out.” Said Tony turning off the water. “Let’s go.” Peter wasted no time in standing from his position of leaning against the side. He almost slipped in the slick tub, crashing into Tony who caught him.  

“How did I know that would happen?”  

“Sorry…”

Tony only sighed in exasperation and set Peter on the lid of the toilet, tossing a towel on his head and rubbing it for good measure. Peter pulled it off, annoyed as his hair curled.

“Okay, I’m going to wait for you out here now that you’re more awake; get dressed.”

Peter did so then shuffled out in a slightly large shirt and pajama pants. They obviously belonged to Tony. His stomach flip-flopped again and he rushed back to the toilet before violently bringing up bile and water.

“Oh, ew. You’re back at it again?” asked Tony, walking into the bathroom.

Peter didn’t reply only heaved. Tony grimaced in disgust.

“I’m going to go get that ginger ale, you just continue… _that_ …” he said, stepping back into the hallway.

When Tony returned, Peter was no longer being sick but laid his warm cheek on the cold plastic of the toilet seat.

“Ew, that’s somehow worse. Come here.” he told the sick boy. Peter watched as the inventor sat with his back against the tub then scooted towards him.

“Lay down.” Tony demanded, patting his lap. Peter complied, laying down on the cool tile with his head pillowed on the man’s thigh. Tony reached over him and grabbed one of Peter’s discarded shoes.

“Now,” he said, setting the shoe on his other thigh, “I’m going to show you how to properly tie a shoe.”


	11. The Subject of Going Home

Chapter 11- The Subject of Going Home

 WEDNESDAY

“Look who decided to join the land of the living!” called Tony, casually sipping his coffee as Peter shuffled into the kitchen. Peter ignored the jibe opting instead to yawn and sit down at the counter pillowing his head in his arms.  

Tony brought out a bowl from the cabinets and filled it with cereal and milk. He put it in front of the boy.  
“Eat up. I might not be a chef, but I make a mean bowl of Lucky Charms,” he said, going back to his coffee.

“Thanks Mr. Stark.” Said Peter, then dug in. He was starving! He hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday and then he’d basically flipped his stomach inside out.

“Feeling any better?” 

Peter nodded and fished out a bunch of the colorful marshmallows with his spoon and ate them in one bite, savoring the sugar.

“Yeah, actually. A lot better.”

“Good,” said Tony walking up and placing his palm on Peter’s forehead. “and it looks like your fever broke, too. So. Looks like it’s time for you to go home.”  

Peter stopped and dropped his spoon, it clattered into the bowl loudly. Tony looked up surprised.  
“What- No!” the teen blurted out unexpectedly. Tony was sending him home? To… to May? …Was Peter… _afraid_ of her?

Tony scratched the back of his head uncertainly.

“Well—Pete, this has been great—really.  I enjoyed spending my evening on the bathroom floor while you puked your guts out…but I’m not cut out for this. And I’m sure Aunt Hottie is waiting for you.” He finished his coffee then turned to put it in the sink.

“Besides, I have stuff to do today.”

Peter’s face fell. Of course, Mr. Stark was a very busy man and Peter was getting in the way. Probably had all of yesterday, too. The great Tony Stark had to lower himself to get some kid (who wasn’t even his!) having a mental breakdown at school only to have to take care of him while he threw up all night.

Peter nodded desolately and pushed around his mushy cereal. He wasn’t hungry anymore. He stood and went to put the bowl in the sink, bypassing Tony’s Stark Industries mug. He began to wash the bowl, using the probably very expensive organic lemon dish soap and a sponge.

“Peter, I have a dishwasher for that.” Tony said nonchalantly, walking into the elevator.

“Anyway, get ready. We leave in twenty.” He said as the doors shut, taking him to the lab.

Peter finished washing his dishes and walked back to the bedroom and began to clean the room. He didn’t want to leave a mess for Mr Stark. Didn’t want to bother him any further. He made the bed and smoothed the covers, sanitized the bathroom with what he found under the sink and cleaned up anymore messes he found along the way.

Peter looked at his clothes. Mr Stark had let him borrow them. He inspected them and found them to still be clean. Thank goodness—he didn’t want to mess up the inventor’s things. He took them off and put on the clothes from yesterday that had miraculously dry cleaned while he was sleeping, then neatly folded the borrowed ones and placed them on the bed. He sat next to them stiffly. He didn’t want to go home.

He picked at his clothes anxiously, what was taking Mr Stark so long? He put on his shoes and continued to wait. What if Mr Stark wasn’t coming? Did he want Peter to go home on his own? He told him twenty minutes, hadn’t he? Did Mr Stark forget about him? He couldn’t take it anymore.

“FRIDAY? Where’s Mr Stark?”

“He is currently in his lab.”

Peter bit his lip. Should he go down there? He didn’t want to get in the way. He took a deep breath. He could do this. He shouldered his backpack and walked to the elevator.

“Can I go to the lab, please?”

He told the AI.

“Of course.”

The elevator brought him to the lab and he hesitated when the doors opened. What if Mr Stark didn’t want him down here? What if he was supposed to stay upstairs and wait? He felt dread rise in his stomach. May would be angry if he went somewhere without her permission these days—would Tony feel the same? Would Tony hit him, too? He felt guilty. If Tony hit him, he would deserve it. Tony basically knew everything, the man was incredibly smart. If he hit Peter, obviously, Peter was the one in the wrong. He shouldn’t be down here.

He stepped forward out of the elevator and the doors shut behind him with an air of finality. Tony looked up when he heard the door and Peter watched him nervously. He shifted his backpack and took a step back.

“Oh, hey, Pete. Didn’t see you there. Is it time to go already?” he checked his very expensive watch.

Peter felt the nervous sweat drip down his back and said nothing.

“You okay there, kid? You look a little pale.”

Peter felt like he would throw up and pass out at once; but he did neither. He took a deep breath. He couldn’t worry his mentor, he was sure he would be fine.

“I’m okay Mr Stark.”

Tony still looked concerned.

“You sure? You might still be sick. You wanna stay here?”

“No, it’s okay Mr Stark. I’m fine. I don’t need you to take care of me.” He replied.

But it came out wrong. He didn’t want to make the man take care of him anymore than he had been forced to yesterday, he didn’t want Tony Stark to feel obligated to nurse him, needy-whiney-selfish-worthless-mutant Peter Parker, back to health. To feel obligated to even be near him, never mind that close.

“Jeeze kid, you wound me. Was I that bad of a nurse?” Tony asked, jokingly.

But Peter looked at the ground. He had offended him. Why couldn’t he do anything right? What was wrong with him?

“FRIDAY, can you tell Happy that we’re ready and on our way up?”

“Certainly sir.”

Tony climbed into the car and Peter hurried in after him, Happy shutting the door behind him. The air was tense. After an hour of staring out the window and sitting in silence, Mr Stark began to speak.

“Look, Pete, I get that you don’t want to go home. Really. I do. But your Aunt has to be worried sick. No one’s been able to get a hold of her for two days.”

Tony said, looking at his Stark phone then to the boy. Peter turned to him from the window.

“You know anything about that?”

Peter stiffened. Of course, he knew about that; but the billionaire didn’t need to know. He already had a lot on his plate. He shook his head slowly. The man sighed and went back to his phone. Peter went back to the window.

When they reached his apartment, he stayed still. Acted like he didn’t know they had arrived.

“Kid? We’re here. Home sweet home, etcetera, etcetera.” Tony said, looking out from over his sunglasses. Peter gulped. He really did not want to go inside.

Tony looked confused at his reaction.

“Happy, we at the right place?”

“Yes, we are boss.” Happy replied, reciting the address.

Tony looked at Peter expectantly and Peter looked at the building in anxiety. He took a shaky breath and managed to gather the courage to get out of the vehicle.  Happy drove off without a goodbye and Peter felt slightly discouraged. What had he done to not even deserve a goodbye? But he shook it off. Mr Stark had better things to do and Peter had a dragon to face.

He knocked on his apartment door after pleading with the landlord to be let in and hopped the door would be answered. He didn’t have to wait however, because once his fist hit the wood, the door slowly creaked open.

* * *

 

The apartment was in total darkness when he stepped inside. He stayed quiet and stepped forward, his foot crushing something glass. He tried to see what it was but he couldn’t make it out. He tip-toed into the quiet living room and saw May sitting on the couch.

She looked haggard—like she hadn’t slept in days. She held an empty wine bottle in one hand and the other hung listlessly over the arm of the couch. The TV was on but only static played quietly. What scared him the most however, was the multiple bottles of open pills spilled on the coffee table.

“May?” he whispered. Her head turned to him quickly and he instantly regretted calling her.

“Where the ever-loving _fuck..._  have you been?” she whispered back suddenly enraged by his presence.

“I…” But Peter was at a loss for words. May stared at him, waiting for an answer. He gulped and said nothing more.

“Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you? I had no idea where you were.” Her eyes began to glisten in the light of the TV.

“You could have been dead for all I knew. How could you do this to me, _again_?” she asked. 

His heart ached in sympathy. He knew how lonely she was without his Uncle and how she used to get worried when she didn’t know where her nephew was. Terrified that he would be taken from her like Ben.

“I’m sorry…”

“Shut up.”  She whispered.

 “I know I messed up, I’m so sorry May. I should have found some way to tell you. I know you worry… especially after …”

 “I said SHUT. THE. FUCK. _UP_.” She shrieked, her face hardening.  “Don’t you _dare_ mention him. Why the _fuck_ would I worry about a piece of shit like you? I hardly know you anymore. All you’ve done is _lie_ to me! Lied about being a mutant, lied about where you go, lied about Stark! Lied about _Ben_!”

Suddenly with all her might, she lifted her arm and threw the wine bottle at Peter’s head. Peter’s senses warned him and he dodged just in time for the bottle to smash into the wall behind him.

He trembled and watched her in terrified shock, her chest heaving in anger. She got off the couch and slowly walked towards him, grabbing another empty bottle and chucking it at him.

“I know you were out there, jumping around, doing god knows what…”

She took a moment and rubbed her hand down her face, calming herself. She shook her head in disbelief and began to cry.

“How could you leave me here? How could you leave me alone? It’s all your fault that I’m alone. How could you let him leave me? Why did you let him die? You’re a murderer you _worthless_ creature. What’s wrong with you?”

Peter trembled and said nothing. She picked up a glass and threw it. It smashed at Peter’s feet.

“ _Answer me_!” she screamed. She stalked up to him and he shrank back and she hit him across the face then pushed him to the ground.

“Please, Aunt May. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I swear. I didn’t mean it. Please, you have to believe me! I—please, May!”  he rambled nervously scooting away from her.

“You caused my husband’s death. You could have done something about it and you didn’t. You watched your own uncle die and did nothing. In my eyes, that’s as good as having killed him yourself.” She said, fire lacing her words. She grabbed a nearby vase and his senses tried to warn him but he didn’t notice until it was too late.

He heard the loud crash of ceramic breaking on his head, the sting of shards cutting up his face and hands. He fell hard onto his back, curling up in an attempt to protect himself. He swallowed a scream and May stood up. She kicked him hard in the side then went into the living room apparently done with him.

She picked up a pill bottle and downed four tablets, washing them down with some room-temperature wine. Peter didn’t dare move a muscle. Not when he felt something warm drip down his face, not when he felt May pass by him, not when he heard her bedroom door close.

What felt like hours later but was only thirty minutes, Peter slowly sat up. He touched his head and wiped away some of the blood, it was slowing down now. He got up and retrieved a paper towel from the kitchen then returned to his spot. He cleaned up the drops of blood from the ground. May wouldn’t like it if she saw he had ruined their floors.  

He then grabbed more of the roll, hesitant. Should he use this for himself? Would May be angry at him for using her things? Peter decided that his head ached too much to think right now and pressed the towels on his forehead anyway to staunch the bleeding. At least, he thought, he wouldn’t get blood on the floor if the wound was covered. If Tony were here, he would marvel at Peter’s ingenuity.

 Peter walked into the bathroom and inspected himself in the mirror, his forehead had a massive bump on it which was bleeding sluggishly and was already turning dark purple as well as multiple smaller cuts on his face. He sighed, why did he have to make his aunt so angry? Why did he always speak? He needed to learn to be quiet so May wouldn’t have to hit him anymore. He brushed his teeth silently thinking of ways to keep himself out of the way, but remain in sight enough for May to know he wasn’t out without her permission.

He changed into his pajamas and laid down after turning out the lights. He hugged his pillow, it wasn’t the same, but he had no other choice. He went to sleep thinking of ways he could convince May that he could be better, that she didn’t have to hit him so much, only if he was really bad. Because he knew that he deserved it sometimes.

That night he woke up to his door creaking open, he froze. May walked in carefully and sat down on his bed. She smoothed his curls down softly when he rolled over to face her.

“Why did you do it Peter?”

Peter looked at her face for any sign of deception but found none.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, May.”

“I’ll never forgive you for it Peter. You deserve to be punished and if I have to be the one to do it, then so be it. You deserve to be hit, Peter, and you know why.”

She caressed his cheek.

“I love you but you need to learn. I don’t want you to leave this room unless it’s for school or to use the toilet. Goodnight.” She said, then walked out of the room after closing the creaking door and locking it from the outside.


	12. The Spurious Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spurious: spu·ri·ous  
> ˈsp(y)o͝orēəs/  
> adjective  
> not being what it purports to be; false or fake.

The Spurious Friends

THURSDAY

Peter had managed to get little to no sleep that night; terrified May would come back and hit him again. When his alarm rang he felt almost grateful and climbed out of bed wearily.  He changed his clothes and poked his head out the door looking both ways for May. When he didn’t see her, he snuck out into the bathroom to finish getting ready. He inspected himself in the mirror as he brushed his teeth, the wounds had already faded. Only a slight yellowing bruise and a headache remained from the events of yesterday.

He sat at the breakfast table eating his cereal, it felt like all he’d been eating was cereal for the past month. The only noise was the clinking of his spoon hitting the porcelain and it felt strangely eerie. He walked out into the living room on his way out the door when he stopped at the coffee table. There were so many pills.

They were spread out on the table like pieces to an unfinished puzzle, bright white against the dark wood. He picked up an orange bottle.  Codeine, prescribed for a Jonathan S. Waites, 60 milligrams, twice a day for 2 weeks. Fentanyl, twice a day prescribed for Tomas Owens. Hydromorphone for Meredith J. Porter and Oxycodone for Michael Harrison.

He set them down as they previously were. These seemed like serious medications, ones that he would be slapped for messing with. His senses suddenly warned him of something and he rushed out of the apartment before May could walk out of her bedroom. He wondered when he had started to think of her as enough of a threat to warrant a warning.

“Hey, Peter.” Greeted Ned at Peter’s locker. MJ watched him from behind the enthusiastic Ned, leaning against the lockers and hiding a concerned look behind a nonchalant façade.

“Hey.” Peter greeted back wearily.

He opened his locker and put in his books carefully, before—he would throw them in recklessly and slam the locker shut ready to prepare for the busy school day ahead. But he felt like it would be good to practice so he could be quiet at home. He switched out his books and zipped up his bag, shouldering it.

“So, how are you doing?” asked Ned. “Like, after Tuesday.”

Peter frowned in confusion before a look of realization came over him and he turned bright red.

“I’m okay.” He said, withdrawn. He looked at the floor in embarrassment. And he and Ned began to follow MJ when she started walking to class ahead of them. Ned looked at him curiously.

“…You sure dude?”

Peter gave him an awkward thumbs-up and Ned accepted it.

“So, how was it with Mr Stark? Was it awesome? I bet it was awesome.” Ned chattered, excitedly.

“Uh, not really. I got super sick and kinda threw up everywhere.” Peter cringed at the memory. “I don’t think Mr Stark is very happy with me for it.”

Ned shrugged.

“That sucks dude.”

They continued in silence until they reached their respective classrooms bidding farewell as they parted. When third period rolled around Peter felt exhausted. He was attempting to write notes but was simultaneously falling asleep in his chair, his notes becoming more and more illegible as his muscles slackened. He shook his head and rubbed his tired eyes, trying to awaken himself but the monotonous voice of the teacher as he read off the power point was becoming very hard to focus on.

He rested his head on his hand and the teacher answered a student’s question. His eyes becoming harder to open and he laid his head down on the desk, pillowing it on his arm and taking notes with the other hand. Soon enough, he had fallen asleep, his pencil falling onto his unfinished notes.

Peter was startled awake by his teacher shaking his shoulder and his pencil and notes fell to the ground after he bumped them. His teacher picked them up setting them on his desk. Peter looked around and realized he was the only student left.

“Class is over, Peter.”

Peter averted his eyes sheepishly and the teacher leaned against the desk in front of him.

“Are you feeling okay, Mr. Parker?”

Peter fiddled with the hem of his shirt.

“I’m fine, Mr. Dalton. I just didn’t sleep well last night.” He said, finally meeting the teacher’s eyes. The man looked skeptical.

“You’re a star student, Peter. Always have in A in this class—If I can get you to stop talking. Something going on at home? You seem quiet today.”

Peter shook his head, this was his problem and his problem alone.

“No, sir. I’m sorry I fell asleep. I promise it won’t happen again. I got most of the notes, I swear.”

The teacher raised an eyebrow.

“I believe you. Still, the rules dictate that anyone caught sleeping during lecture gets detention. Unless you can think of any other suitable punishment?”

Peter began to tremble in fear. He didn’t want to be hit, not at school.

“No, sir. Please. I promise I won’t do it again.”  Peter pleaded, he felt his eyes grow wet.  The teacher looked at him in concern and held the boy’s shoulder in reassurance.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s alright, Peter. There’s no need to cry.” He said, pityingly. He sighed.  “You’ll just have one hour of detention on Friday afternoon. I’m sorry but you know the rules. Do you know where it is?”

Peter nodded and wiped his face with his sleeve. Thank goodness, he thought relieved, he might deserve to be hit, but he really didn’t want to be—not at school. His teacher looked at him kindly.  
“You’re gonna be fine, Peter. Head on down to lunch before you miss it.” He said, then left the teen to pack up his things. Peter quickly did so and went to the teacher’s desk. Mr. Dalton looked up from his grade book.

“Thank you, Mr. Dalton.” Peter said, relieved. He felt much better now that he knew the teacher would not punish him today, he felt it was only polite to show his gratitude. Although, he felt guilty because he knew he deserved it, the teacher was giving an important lecture and Peter had been rude and ungrateful by falling asleep in class.

The teacher looked up at him, 

"What was that Mr. Parker?”

“I said thank you.”

“Oh... um, you're welcome?” Peter shifted uneasily. He probably shouldn't be grateful for a detention, but at least he wasn't going to be hit. 

An odd shadow passed over his teacher's face. 

"Are you sure nothings going on at home? You're acting strange." 

"I-um. I have to go. Lunch and all..." Peter said, then quickly left the room.

* * *

 

Peter sat down at the lunch table, Ned and MJ were already seated.

“Oh, hey dude. Did you get all the notes in History?” asked Ned, Peter shook his head and poked at his macaroni.

“I fell asleep and now I have detention on Friday.” He replied, solemnly. He really didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. He’d messed up, he’d made his teacher angry. Why couldn’t he do anything right?

“Oh, that sucks… Do you want to copy mine?” asked Ned.

Peter nodded and Ned pulled out his notebook.

“Thanks Ned…”

Peter got to work, erasing and rewriting illegible notes and writing in the ones he had missed.

“So, I was thinking, we should hang out tonight. Like, work on the Ewok Village? We never finished it. And MJ said she wanted to come too. Well, actually she said we were lame but I’m pretty sure she wanted to come anyway.”

MJ didn’t look up and turned the page in her book. Quietly, she listened to the boy’s conversation, adding her own input in her mind.

“Uh, well, May’s not too happy with me right now…but I can ask her when I get home.” Peter replied still writing. 

“What’d you do?” asked Ned curiously.

“Um, I… well, she’s pretty mad at me about the whole… _vigilante-ing_ thing.” he said distractedly.

Ned’s eyes widened.

“She knows?” he whispered.

Peter tried to focus on writing and took a bite of an apple slice.  
“Yeah, she sort of… walked in on me a while ago.” He replied. “And she’s not happy about it.”  
“Dude, that’s insane.”

Peter hummed, and finished the notes finally able to focus on the conversation.

“So, how mad is she?”

Peter thought about it and continued eating his lunch.

“She’s… _really_ mad. She wanted to take away my suit, but she hasn’t found it yet. And she’s been yelling a lot lately.” He said thoughtfully. “You know how she started drinking after Ben died?” he asked his friend.

Ned nodded sadly. “Yeah, poor May. She was really torn up.” Peter’s heart clenched and he agreed.

“Yeah, she started drinking a lot again.”

MJ looked up from her book, now paying close attention. Ned nodded in sympathy, it was probably a lot to take in for Peter’s poor aunt.

“Yeah, she’s not doing so well. I feel really guilty about it…” Peter continued, “She got really mad at me yesterday though. Hit me with a vase.” He said nonchalantly and poked his vegetables with his fork. MJ’s thoughts screeched to a halt and her mouth dropped open in shock.

“What the hell, Peter?” MJ said leaning against the table towards him. “She did _what_?”

Peter shrugged. It wasn’t a big deal. 

“She gets really mad sometimes, but it’s okay. I can handle it.” He said.

“You shouldn’t have to. She shouldn’t be hitting you _at_ _all_.”

Peter frowned.  
“It’s not like I can’t take it. She got mad that’s all. I’m fifteen. I’m not a little kid, and not to mention, I’m _enhanced_. I’m fine. Besides, soon, she won’t even be mad so she won’t even have to hit me anymore.” He reassured stabbing his plate with his fork in annoyance.

“What the _fuck_ , Peter?”

“ _What_?”

“Have you always been this _deluded_? She’s _abusing_ you! You shouldn’t need to worry if she’s gonna _hit_ you.” She said, suddenly angry.

Peter, too, got angry and Ned watched still in shock at what he was hearing.

“Michelle, it’s _my_ business, not yours. And she’s not… _abusing_ me. She loves me, she’s my _aunt_. She wouldn’t do that. She’s just… angry. She’ll get over it soon enough and then things will be back to normal.”

“Peter, Michelle’s right—” Ned said suddenly.

“What? You’re taking _her_ side?” Peter interrupted, “You _know_ May! You know how she gets! So what if sometimes she gets really mad and I get in the way. I was the one who made her mad in the first place! I should be the one who gets punished.”

“Peter, she can’t hit you, dude.” Ned told him matter-of-factly.

“No, you guys don’t get it. She’s…she’s _May,_ she’s all I have left.” Peter said, then picked up his tray in annoyance.

“Peter, just because you’re a mutant—” began Michelle, then went on a tangent about mutants having rights because they were people too, but Peter froze and had stopped listening. He dropped his lunch tray spilling leftover food on his shoes and splashing milk on the tiles. MJ and Ned stopped to stare at him. He felt his heart beat loud and fast in his ears, blocking out the noisy cafeteria. His breath quickening and his eyes wide on MJ.

“…Peter?” started Ned, and with that Peter began to run. The students turned at the commotion to see him burst out of the lunch room’s heavy doors. He ran into the bathroom and into the last stall. Ned and MJ came crashing in after him and he locked the stall door just in time for Ned to thump against it.  He curled up on the floor and tried his best to breath but his chest was so tight and he could only wheeze.

Ned and MJ heard him from behind the door and began to panic too.

“Peter?!” called Ned.  
 Peter hid his face in his arms and ignored them. MJ knocked on the door.

“Peter? What’s wrong? What happened?” 

Peter said nothing. He curled his fingers in his hair, tugging just so he could focus on something else. His chest heaved a he was close to hyperventilation, all he could think about was May. She was screaming through his bedroom door. Calling him a monster, a mutant, an animal. He couldn’t _breathe_.

Michelle didn’t know what to do. What had she said that had caused her friend to react like this? She needed to get to him. She studied the door and got an idea. She suddenly got down on her knees and crawled under the door. Within the stall, Peter was as small as he could be crushed against the wall under the window and pulling his hair, she could hear how he was struggling.

“Peter?” she asked warily.

He flinched and curled up tighter. Her heart clenched at her friend’s distress, she needed to do something. She stepped closer and sat in front of him. He didn’t react. She touched his shoulder. This time he did react. And violently.

He uncurled and pushed her back hard. She stumbled and fell backwards onto the bathroom floor, bruising her forearms and smacking her head on the tile. She sat up slowly and raised a hand to the back of her head. There was no blood and she would be fine but it did hurt. She looked at the boy.

 Peter had backed away from her, curling himself between the toilet and the wall, frightened. He watched her, but he wasn’t seeing her, he was seeing May.

“Peter? It’s going to be okay.” She said. Peter shook his head.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Peter …it’s fine. Really.” 

“…I’m sorry.”  He whispered again. “Please don’t hit me. I—I’m so sorry.” His face turned pale.

“I’d never hit you, Peter.”

“What’s happening?” Ned said suddenly through the door.

MJ jumped, then remembering Ned, opened the door. He walked in slowly and closed the stall door, locking it again. They stared at their friend.

“Get out.” Said Peter quietly.

The two did nothing.

            “Please! Leave—get out! I don’t want you here! I don’t need your _pity_. Just _leave_!” he yelled at them, uncurling and his mind clearing. 

 “I _hate_ you! You guys don’t even _like_ me! How could you make me believe that I was good enough to have friends or even acquaintances? I’m _not!_ Everything I do is _wrong_ and _corrupted_!” he yelled. MJ and Ned simply watched in shock as their friend crumbled in front of them. Pouring out self-loathing in waves.

“I shouldn’t even be alive. _I killed my uncle._ How could I do that? I’m just a horrible _mutant_ —an awful _person_ , a terrible nephew... a murderer. How could you let me believe that I was anything other than worthless? Just… leave me alone.”

Ned and MJ looked at each other, stunned. What were they supposed to do? And slowly and unsurely, they did as they were told. They walked out of the bathroom, leaving their friend to comfort himself.

* * *

 

Peter took a deep breath, he was not going to go to class after this. When he finally calmed down enough, he climbed up the wall and opened the window, jumping out and landing on the soft grass below. He didn’t have his backpack, but he regularly lost backpacks while out as Spiderman. One more wouldn’t be a problem. The boy wrapped his arms around himself and walked to the subway station. 

He walked into the subway cart and sat down in a chair. There were only a couple of people on the subway due to it being one in the afternoon. He watched the scenery pass and put his legs on the seat over, only politely moving them when a pregnant woman asked for the seat. He brought his legs to his chest, similarly to how he had been sitting in the bathroom. The woman looked at him and with a mid-western accent started to speak.

“Rough day at school?” she asked.

He nodded. Why did people always insist on speaking to him when he was upset?  
“You know when I was in high school, people used to bully me. I like to think it was because I was smarter than them, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t throw me in the nearest dumpster. I see you’re a smart one too.” She pointed to his midtown sweater.  

Peter sighed and she smiled.

“What’s got you so upset, mister?” she asked playfully.

Peter didn’t really want to talk and he shrugged.

“You’re the quiet type I see.” She said, “That’s okay. I can talk enough for the both of us.”

She then continued her monolog and soon enough, Peter started to feel better. He would add in his own two cents here and there and she would laugh loudly which would make Peter snicker quietly in response to her ridiculously contagious belly laugh. She talked about anything and everything telling him about her home life, her husband, her job, her baby. Peter was amazed at how many stories she had and how wholesome her personality was.

“You’re gonna be a good mother.” He said referring to how she had helped him when he was feeling down.

“That’s all anyone can hope to be.” She replied with a soft smile, and Peter got off the subway, feeling much lighter than he had before.

When he got home, he closed the front door softly then went into his room. It had been such a long day, he hadn’t talked to MJ or Ned since lunch; ignoring all their texts and calls. He was reading his trigonometry textbook when May called out to him.

“Peter? Come here.”

Peter’s heart began to pound in his chest. What had he done? Why was May calling him? Slowly and cautiously he walked back out into the living room. May was on the couch watching the news and he didn’t want to interrupt. She saw him standing in the archway.

“Come.” She said, patting the couch next to her. Peter sat down warily next to her and she wrapped her arm around him bringing him to her side.

“Look.” She said pointing at the television.

“Where is Spiderman?” began the newscaster after the logo had played. “The masked vigilante that watches over the Queens borough is said to be missing. Citizens have reported not having seen the arachnid in weeks.” The reporter showed a clip of Peter swinging through the city and a civilian spoke in a microphone.

“He saved my daughter once. I really owe him. Where are you Spiderman?” she said exasperated. The clip ended and returned to the newsroom.

“Has the hero finally left the rescue work to local police? Has _The Spiderman_ retired? We’ll have more of the story for you at 6. Now, meteorologist Alex Larson has the weather.” The newsroom switched to the weatherman who began to explain the expected weather for the coming week. May squeezed Peter in a side hug.  
“You see?” she whispered, “They don’t need you. Queens can take care of itself.” She ran her fingers through his hair soothingly. He frowned, he thought he did good work while he was out as Spiderman… he felt supremely guilty. Had he failed as Spiderman? Obviously, people didn’t need him. They had the Avengers… _real_ superheroes who actually saved people.  And if May was happy…

“I’m so proud of you. You haven’t gone out in a long time. We should celebrate.” She said standing.

“I’m going to order pizza. Anything in particular you want?” she said with false sweetness. Peter shook his head.

“Go to your room and wait then.”

He did so without any more prompting and sat at his desk, sure to be quiet. It looked like May was finally happier with him. He wondered how long it would last.

 


	13. The Stairs

Chapter 13: The Stairs

FRIDAY

Peter woke up the next morning a different kind of tired. He was bone tired, exhausted, tired because he was grieving. Grieving because today marked the day his uncle had died exactly one year ago. A death he could have stopped. Here _he_ was alive and well while Uncle Ben was not. He wanted to go back to sleep and preferably, not wake up. Or wake up to a time where everything was back to normal and Ben was getting ready for work while May made pancakes. Alas, when he opened his eyes again, he was back in reality. He could hear Aunt May crying through the walls.

He sighed then got up to get dressed. He didn’t really want to go to school today but he’d already missed quite a few days already and it was starting to show in his grades. He got himself ready for school and looked in the fridge for some breakfast, but it was empty. There were three orange juice boxes, a stick of butter, a half a gallon of milk that probably expired today, and a package of ham. He grabbed a juice and looked around the counters and spotted a bag with a lone English muffin inside it. He was grabbing that too when he got an unexpected chill down his spine, he ducked instinctively just in time for May to have barely missed his head with a cup of water.

 It smashed into the overhead cabinet, water droplets and glass shards raining down on his head and getting caught in his clothes and hair. A white dish followed barely missing his side and smashing on a bottom cabinet. It, too, smashed into pieces and fell to the linoleum. He took this fantastic morning welcome as his que to run as fast as he could out the door, grabbing his backpack along the way.

Peter munched on the plain English muffin with the orange juice box while he sat on the subway. He felt slightly guilty that he was getting crumbs all over the seats, but he was too hungry to care. He had split the muffin in half in order to make it last longer and regretted only bringing one juice. He thought back to this morning, he felt May was excused to her anger. Peter had caused her husband’s death after all. If he had just been there and something about it… He wondered if he had any money to replace the glass and dish she had thrown.

School was a boring affair, his teacher looked at him strangely in fourth period but said nothing. Peter felt this was for the best and didn’t talk to him either. The rest of his teachers gave him looks of pity as well because they knew what day it was. Peter just ignored them, he simply wanted to get through the day and not think too hard.

When lunch rolled around, he wasn’t feeling particularly hungry. He just wanted to go home. He stood with his lunch tray and looked around the lunchroom trying to find a table to sit at.  He chose the nearest table and as soon as he set down his tray, the table began to jeer at him.

“Are you seriously thinking of sitting here?”

“Go away, Penis.”

“Didn’t his uncle die today?”

“Yeah and he’s an orphan, too. Sucks for him”

“Fuck off, Peter.”

“Asshole thinks that just because he’s at the top of the class that he can sit wherever he wants…”

Peter took a deep breath and moved on, this time focusing on tables that were a little less crowded, which he probably should have done in the first place. But, every time he had decided on a place, the people sitting at it would scowl at him until he walked away.

His lunch was getting cold by the time he finally decided on an empty circular table at the very back of the cafeteria, far away from MJ and Ned. His phone kept vibrating with texts from them but he ignored them in favor of eating his lukewarm pizza slice. He really didn’t care for it, because even if it was pizza, it was still cafeteria food. Another buzz, he pulled out his phone unlocking it. The group chat stared at him and he began to read.

Group chat 1: _MJ and Ned_

Ned: _Dude? Where are u?_

Michelle: _Why aren’t u sitting at the usual table? Where are u_

Ned: _Nvm I found u. Why are u sitting way over there_

Michelle: _Where?_

Ned: _Way at the back. We’re sorry man, seriously_

Michelle: _Peter, come on. Answer us_

Ned: _Hellooooo?_

Michelle: _???_

He clicked off his phone and put it back in his pocket. They didn’t understand. All they’d done was pretend to like him and now that he figured it out, they were panicking. That’s all this was. He stabbed at the canned peaches with his fork. They just couldn’t handle that he had found out what was really going on and now they just felt guilty. They didn’t understand that this was just a rough spot in his and May’s relationship that would eventually be resolved. May couldn’t stay mad forever, right? He could handle himself until then.

The rest of the day passed agonizingly slow. In woodshop where he was partnered with Ned to work on a birdhouse, it went even slower. He spoke to the other boy in clipped aggravated sentences, only speaking when he absolutely had to.

“Pass the hammer.” He said, holding out a hand and not looking at him.

“Peter, what’s going on?” Ned asked, passing the hammer.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Ned sighed deeply and watched as Peter hammered down the roof. Their birdhouse looked pretty shit but it was a participation grade. As long as they did it, and did it correctly, they would get the credit. Peter ran out of nails and sighed exasperatedly.

“I need nails.”

“We don’t have any more.” Ned told him. The birdhouse was lopsided.

“Do we have any wood glue left?”

“Uh…” Ned rummaged in their tool box. Ned found the bottle and squeezed it, nothing came out. “No.”

Peter sighed again, annoyed this time. “Are you sure? I don’t think our roof will stay on like this.” He turned it around and sat down on his stool to study it.

“We’ll probably have to redo the roof somehow.” Ned studied it too, then looked at Peter.

“Are you ok, man? I know today is a bad day but—”

“I don’t. Want. To. Talk. About it! Why is that so hard for you to understand?” Peter snapped.

He slid the house to Ned who looked at him questioningly. Then took off the safety googles and laid his head in his arms. He really did not want to deal with today anymore. It really was not a good day.

The bell finally rang and he quickly packed up his things not looking at Ned, then left the room before anyone could stop him. He walked down the hall and into the detention room, he was the first one there and Coach Wilson was putting in the CD. The Captain America CD menu began to play and Peter sat down in a chair. The coach sat back down at his desk and began to shuffle papers.

“Mr. Parker. Glad you could make it.”

Peter said nothing. He was beyond annoyed at this point and rolled his eyes when the teacher wasn’t looking. A couple more students shuffled in the empty classroom and MJ came in last. He wondered if she had come in just to bother him but then realized she wouldn’t have known he would be there. She sat down in the chair next to him much to his irritation and he didn’t look at her, focusing on the DVD.

“Peter.” She said, and he ignored her.  
“You can’t ignore us forever.”

He hid his face in his arms to avoid any kind of conversation. He could try.

* * *

 

He got home and walked up the seven flights of stairs to his apartment and unlocked the door. It was dark inside, the curtains were drawn, the TV the only light—Illuminating the pill bottles on the coffee table. He set his backpack on the ground near the door and cautiously walked further into the living room. He eyed the pills that were spilling and internally worried that May had taken too many. Nearby sat a newly opened bottle of white wine. He was definitely more concerned now, he heard that you were never supposed to mix medications with alcohol. He carefully walked to the table and scooped up the pills, putting them back into their designated containers and blowing the dirt off the ones that had fallen before putting those back in the bottles too. He felt a sudden giddiness, May might be happy with him that he was helping out around the house, cleaning and the like.

He lined up the bottles in a neat row and picked up the wine bottle. He wondered if Mister Stark would be angry that he was touching alcohol while underage, but Mister Stark wasn’t here. Peter tightened the lid and lined it up next to the pills then continued his cleaning. He picked up the throw pillows that had fallen to the ground and dusted them off before placing them neatly back on the couch.

 _“And it looks like rain and thunderstorms tonight, make sure to grab an umbrella if you plan to go out…”_ said the woman on the TV.

Peter stood and admired his handy work, he felt he had done a good job picking up the living room in the dark. 

Abruptly, there was a loud noise, he jumped and turned around to see May stumbling clumsily out of the bathroom, clinging drunkenly to the walls. It was the most drunk and uncoordinated he’d seen her in a long time. He felt a shiver of fear go up his spine, he had a really bad feeling about this.

Peter sat down on the floor between the couch and the coffee table to make himself smaller and less of a target for her when she stumbled into the living room. She took one look at the coffee table and frowned, then looked right at Peter. He shrank back.

“Were you touching my stuff?” she asked menacingly, pointing to the neat line of bottles and alcohol.

“I was just cleaning up a little for you…”

Her eyes flashed in anger and slight concern.

“What did you take?”

Peter sat still in shock.

“ _What the fuck did you take_? Answer me Peter!”

“I didn’t take anything! I swear!”

She looked at him unbelievingly.

“You piece of shit, what the fuck did you drink? I know you drank something!”

Peter trembled.

“I promise, Aunt May. I didn’t drink anything. I swear, I was just cleaning.”

She squinted then didn’t seem to care anymore. The fire in her eyes died to a simmer. She picked up the wine bottle.  
“Fine, but if you start hallucinating, that’s on you.”

Peter looked at the ground in submission and May walked over to sit on the couch behind him. She took a drink from the bottle.

“You know what day it is Peter?” she asked, lowly. Peter said nothing and wrapped his arms around his knees.

“It’s the day my husband was murdered. Exactly one year ago today.” Peter shuddered as she continued.

“When did you get your powers, Peter?”

Peter looked at her, did she really want an answer to that?

“Um… a month before…?”

“A month before…And you didn’t think to yourself that maybe you could have been there? Swung on in like I’ve seen you do on the news?”

Peter looked away.  
“Saved your own Uncle? He’s always been there for you. _Always_. Went to every parent meeting, career day, birthday, packed your lunch, drove you to school… took you in when Mary and Richard died. He loved you—even more than I ever did. Finally, he got the son he always wanted.”

 Peter ‘s lip trembled and his eyes began to flood with tears. These were questions he asked himself every day. To hear them said out loud… it was nothing short of heart breaking. He felt such an unimaginable sense of guilt.

“So, why couldn’t you be there for _him_ when he needed you most?” She asked quietly, she watched him and he covered his face with his hands not looking at her.

His breath hitched and the tears began to fall. She looked back at the TV satisfied that she had been able to make him cry.

 _“The twenty-four-year-old man had been shot three times in the chest and killed here on Main. Police have yet to have been able to find the subject responsible—"_ said the newscaster.

“Another dead, and here you are—crying like a little kid. I thought you were a hero, Peter?”

Peter sobbed, May was right. Yet another person had been killed and he had done nothing to stop it. Why was he such a failure?

She put a hand on his head and pet his hair like he was a dog. He knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t help but lean into it. He pretended she was doing it to comfort him. He looked up when she stopped to lean over him and grab a bottle. She poured three pain killers into her palm and drank them with a shot of wine.

“We really need something stronger than this…” she said, eyeing the bottle. She stood and went into the kitchen coming back with a clear bottle of vodka. Peter wiped his face with his sleeve, smearing the tear tracks and sniffling.

“May… I don’t know if you should drink that... it could make you really sick…”

She picked up the wine bottle then smashed it to the ground spilling wine and glass all over the ground. Peter jumped in surprise.

“You shut the fuck up. I know what I’m doing. Next time you open your fucking mouth, I’ll smash this over your fucking head.”  
Peter shut up. May tipped back the vodka, drinking it straight from the bottle as Peter watched. He vowed he would never touch a drink if it made him anything like May. She sat back down and they watched the TV in silence. Commercials played quietly in the darkness and rain began to pour outside.

“I don’t know how I’m going to live without him…” May said suddenly. Peter said nothing but internally agreed that he didn’t know what he was supposed to do either, Ben was truly their rock. Without him, they were floating around in nothingness.

“I can’t believe you killed him.” She said, tears ruining her mascara. Peter’s fragile resolve began to crumble too and tears dripped into his lap. He couldn’t believe it either, how could he do that?

“Why did you do it, Peter? Why?” she asked, Peter said nothing and sniffled. She pushed him lightly.

“Why?” again, she pushed, harder this time and he almost lost his balance.

“Why the fuck did you do it!?” she yelled then pushed him into the ground.

“I want you _out_!” she continued, they both got to their feet and Peter almost fell back over in his haste to get up.

“Get out! Get out! _Get out_!” she screeched. She pushed him until he reached the door. She wrenched it open and pushed him out, but she wasn’t satisfied yet. She shoved him hard one last time and Peter’s eyes widened as he felt the ground go out from under him. He tumbled backwards going down a flight of stairs.

He hit the bottom at the momentum made him crash into the wall, snapping his forearm and hitting his head. He rolled onto his back and heard the door slam shut. All the sudden the pain kicked in. White-hot agony raced up his arm making him gasp. He clutched it to his chest and the bones moved against each other making a sickening sound. He tried to remember how to breath and tears began to race down his temples. This really hurt. He couldn’t remember ever breaking a bone while on patrol and wondered how that was possible.

He began to sweat and feel dizzy, his arm hurt so badly. He cried and it echoed in the empty hallway. There was no one here to help him and he regretted being so angry with his friends. He now understood what they meant. They were right he definitely couldn’t handle it. He wished they were here. He sniffled and finally found a comfortable position to lay his arm in across his chest. He took a deep breath and dozed on the concrete staircase. He wondered if his neighbors were home and if anyone would find him. He doubted it. He had pushed everyone away and now he would suffer alone. He felt something tickle his cheek and instinctively moved his injured arm to push it away. Pain flooded his senses and he instantly regretted trying to move, he clenched his teeth and tears of pain fell onto the concrete without his notice. His mind finally couldn’t handle the trauma any longer and he blacked out, listening to the rain hit the windows.


	14. The Secret is Revealed

Chapter 14: The Secret is Revealed

* * *

 

SATURDAY

Peter groaned and slowly opened his eyes. That was weird, he wasn’t in bed. He blinked tiredly at the hallway’s ceiling before sitting up. He felt a slight pain in the back of his head and he raised a hand to inspect it. His hand came away sticky with blood and he looked to the floor. Speckles of dark blood littered the floor, and he internally panicked. Would May be angry with him for messing up the floors? He hoped the answer was no, and that she or anyone else simply wouldn’t notice them. He stood up carefully, mindful of his arm—which for some reason was absolutely throbbing—and took hold of the handrail.

He stepped over the drying blood, if he stepped on it carelessly, he was sure it would stick to his shoes and track everywhere. He was one-hundred percent sure that May would be angry with him for _that_. He reached the top and knocked on the door, May answered and rushed to pull him inside with the uninjured arm, he wondered if she knew what was wrong with it. She was a nurse after all.

“May?” he asked quietly when she closed the door. The curtains were open allowing the bright morning light shine in.

“What?” she asked walking over to him with her hands on her hips. She looked tired behind her large rimmed glasses. She looked like she did _before_ , he thought to himself. Before any of this happened, before she knew anything at all. And Peter felt instantly safer because of it. Maybe, she finally wasn’t angry anymore, maybe things could finally go back to the way they were. Apparently, he was taking too long because she suddenly snapped,

“ _What,_ Peter?”

Right, he didn’t want to bother her any more than he had to.

“I think something happened to my arm.” He said and pulled up his sleeve with difficulty. His arm had swollen and turned an ugly shade of purple.

“It’s probably broken, Peter.” She said matter-of-factly.

He looked at it—It sure looked broken.

“If you’d just listen to me yesterday, I’m sure it would be fine today.” Peter nodded, that was true and pulled his sleeve back down.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” He said.

“Go get some Tylenol. I need to go to work.”

Peter nodded and went into the kitchen to retrieve a cup. He wondered when May had gotten so good at dealing with any hangovers she had. Then, wondered if she didn’t experience them because she was constantly high, but Peter didn’t know enough about substance abuse to even know if that was possible.

He drank the medication then decided to take a shower. May closed the door and left for work without saying goodbye.

He washed his hair and saw the last of the blood go down the drain. It was slightly concerning. He wondered if he should have told May and gone to the hospital with her but it was his own fault. If he hadn’t made her so angry yesterday, he wouldn’t have been punished. He put on comfortable clothing and dried his hair on the towel. His eyes went wide when he looked at it and saw that blood managed to get on the pure white towel. There was no hiding this from May, he couldn’t even wash it—he didn’t know where they kept the bleach. But he took a deep breath panicking any further would just make his head hurt worse. He wondered if he could simply hide the towel. 

His head throbbed, reminding him of the injury, and he figured that if he was to stop the bleeding, he could then keep from getting blood anywhere else. This was a good plan, one he thought Tony Stark would approve of. He reached under the sink and found the first aid kit. Perhaps there was something he could use in here. He sat on the floor and looked through it. He found gauze pads and band-aids, the band-aids would not work however, they only would manage to get caught in his hair. He skipped over those and held the gauze pads to the wound on his head, then wrapped them up with a gauze dressing. He looked like a mummy and felt even more ridiculous. But, this would work at least until it stopped bleeding, he thought, then got up. He picked up the mess on the bathroom floor and put away his laundry.

He picked up the white, and now red, towel and lifted his mattress storing it there. It was a place he hoped May wouldn’t think to look and laid down on the bed. He was so tired. His arm and head ached but not as bad as before and the medication was making him drowsy. He fell asleep.

Peter woke up in much more pain than he had fell asleep with and it was making him feel nauseated. He went into the bathroom and carefully unwrapped his head finding with luck that it had stopped bleeding, thank goodness. It still hurt like hell though. He walked slowly into the tiny kitchen and searched for food, he’d been asleep for at least four hours and now although he wasn’t hungry, he knew that in order to take more medication, he needed to eat. He found a package of Ritz and forced himself with much difficulty, to eat a couple of crackers. Filling a glass with water, he took more Tylenol in hopes that it would work.

SATURDAY

He woke up the next morning feeling like he’d been run over by a truck. His head hurt and his arm felt like it was on fire, it was actually what had woken him from his dreamless sleep. The immense pain had him taking deep breaths in order _not_ to start screaming in agony.

 He really felt that he could stay off May’s radar from now on. Before, he could see where he had made mistakes; speaking out of turn, getting in the way and being annoying in general. He could learn from these mistakes, he was sure. He could stay out of the way.

In the end, Peter found out he couldn’t.

He went into the kitchen and prepared himself some toast. He figured, toast would mean less dishes if he ate on a napkin. What he found out, though, was that toast was messy anyway. It led to crumbs getting everywhere and he had the most difficult time sweeping with one arm. He hugged the arm to his chest and anxiety coursed through him at the thought of accidentally bumping something with it.

He took his pain medication with some juice and went back to his room. May wasn’t back from work yet and he felt grateful. Then he felt guilty. _Before_ he would wait anxiously for her to come back so they could do something fun together, like watch a movie or play a board game. Peter guessed that May would not want to play a board game with him anymore. His headache was going away and in its place, was drowsiness. He decided that since May wasn’t home yet, he was safe enough to take a nap and laid down on the bed.

At noon Peter was awoken by the opening of the front door, May had come home. He sat up, worried and cradling his arm to his chest unconsciously, she simply bypassed his door and went into the kitchen. Peter could hear her preparing something and his stomach growled. He’d eaten hours ago and it was probably time for more medication as well.

She swiftly opened his door and tossed the food onto the floor, the paper plate landing softly on the carpet. She’d made sandwiches. Peter was grateful that she’d had the thought to make one for him too. She’d even set a juice box on top. How thoughtful.

* * *

 

SUNDAY

Peter saw more of May on Sunday, he hadn’t had dinner last night and at midnight—once May left for third shift at the hospital—he had snuck into the kitchen and taken a granola bar from one of the cabinets. He’d also seized a strawberry yogurt; surely May wouldn’t notice just one missing. He went back to bed after washing and drying his spoon so she wouldn’t notice it’d even been moved and threw his trash away at the very bottom of the garbage. Then, he’d brushed his teeth and gone to bed.

May was not in as good a mood, Sunday as she was in Saturday and he wasn’t given any more food until dinner. Peter sat anxiously in his room for the other metaphorical shoe to drop, and when it did, it fell hard. May had stomped into his room and grabbed him by the broken arm leading him into the living room and pushing him to the ground. He had to use all his willpower to stop from yelling out in pain as his arm was jostled.

He had noticed, however, that his bones had finally healed. They were now together, but… if Peter looked at it too hard, he noticed that something about it wasn’t right. His arm was not straight anymore, too crooked to be normal. The thought made him gag.

She began to yell but Peter could hardly hear her, his head was swimming. He hadn’t had any pain medication today and it was awful. He hoped that the head thing would be gone by tomorrow, otherwise, he wasn’t sure how he would pay attention in class. She kicked him in the side and he fell sideways, landing on his bad arm. This time, he did scream and loudly. The neighbors banged on the walls, yelling harshly back. They did not appreciate him waking the baby and he clamped his teeth together. Why couldn’t he do anything right? That baby deserved to sleep, his neighbors deserved quiet and May deserved more—so much more.

She began to throw whatever she could find at him and he curled up to protect himself. Soft throw pillows and the afghan from off the couch, the bottles of pills bouncing on him and one of them opening and raining them onto the living room carpet. Peter was grateful there was nothing harmful in the living room until she grabbed a picture frame and smashed it on his head. The ringing was back and glass and bits of wood collected in his hair, scratching at his face and hands. The wound began to bleed again, lightly this time, staining the gauze he’d yet to remove.

She’d given up after that and frantically grabbed a couple of pills off the ground—swallowing them dry. Peter was still slightly dizzy and watched her as she stood and turned on the television nonchalantly--like nothing had happened.

“Clean up that glass, Peter.”  
Peter sat up and got to his knees slowly. He obediently picked up the bits of glass, slicing his hands and smearing blood on the pieces. Then threw them in the trash. She said nothing and he went back to the first aid kit in the bathroom, opening it up and patching himself up. He looked in the mirror and felt stupid, but this was all his own fault.  
“Peter, come sit down.” Said May drowsily from the couch.

Peter meekly went back into the living room holding his arm and sat down next to his aunt on the couch.

“We need to talk.” She said, then wrapped her arm around his shoulders to bring him closer. Peter sat stiffly next to her.

“I know it’s been… tough… since I found out what you do out there. But, you really need to work with me here. You’ve been nothing but ungrateful and selfish. You only think about yourself, Peter. What about me and Ben? What about your parents? What would they think about the behavior I’ve had to put up with?” she asked calmly. Peter looked at the carpet.

“I know you still sneak out of your room at night, Peter. I saw the missing yogurt.” She said. He said nothing.

“You steal, you talk back, you fight with me. It’s unacceptable.” Peter nodded, he knew what he’d done.

“If you just… _listened_ to me. You would be fine. You would be happy and I wouldn’t have to keep hitting you. I only hit you because it seems like that’s the only thing that works. You need to learn, sweetie. You know I love you and only want what’s best for you.” She said sweetly. She blinked her heavy eyelids, high from the medication.

“Peter?”

He looked up from where he had been nervously twisting his hands.

“Can you go get me a cup of wine, please, honey? I need a drink.”

Peter got up and went into the kitchen. He got out a cup and searched the counters. He wasn’t sure how to open a wine bottle and when he’d seen it on TV, they only had corks.  The one on the counter had a wrapping as well as a cork. He opened the fridge on a whim and found a bottle which, when he pulled on the cork, opened. He poured the liquid into the cup and grimaced at the acidic smell. He didn’t know how much was acceptable and filled the cup halfway before bringing it back to his waiting aunt.

She frowned at the presentation and he took a shaky breath, he hoped that it was okay. She took a sip and melted into her seat.

“Thank you, Peter. Go to bed.” She dismissed. He didn’t need to be told twice and sprinted into his bedroom without looking back.

* * *

 

MONDAY

Peter woke up the next morning and got dressed for school the next day. His arm was bothering him some, but his head ache was gone and the scratches were almost entirely healed. He removed the bandages before heading to school. He wondered if his friends were angry with him after he shut them out for three days; he hoped not. But he didn’t see them, they were probably avoiding him after the fiasco on Friday, he thought. Peter didn’t blame them, he would avoid him too. He struggled immensely when writing anything, his handwriting was both illegible and incredibly painful. By third period had given up writing notes entirely, choosing instead to listen and hope he remembered what was said.

In gym, he went in a bathroom stall to avoid strange looks at his crooked arm while he changed into his gym clothes. Thank goodness for long sleeves. He was also thankful it was just running on the outdoor track day. He had avoided socialization entirely throughout the day and ate lunch—the first meal he’d had since the midnight yogurt.

Peter got home as slowly as he could, not wanting to see May. Luckily, when he got home she had gone to work. He went into the kitchen and grabbed another granola bar to take with some Tylenol, his arm was aching after the long school day.

 There was a knock at the front door just as he took the pills.

Who the heck had decided they needed to bother him at this very second? A shiver of fear went through him—what if it was May? But he realized May lived here, she wouldn’t knock, then he felt stupid for his irrational fears. And with that, it dissipated. He walked over and opened the door. And there stood Mr. Stark.

His eyes widened with shock.

“Hey there, Pete.” He greeted unceremoniously.

“Uh, Mr. Stark! What- What are you doing here?”

“Just came to check on how you’re doing. Still sick? Where’s your Aunt?” he asked and looked around the place. Peter’s heart skipped at the mention of May and he hid his crooked arm behind the door.

“She’s at work.” he replied and looked away.

Tony raised an eyebrow and hummed in acceptance then let himself into the apartment. He sat down on their ratty couch and eyed mess on the floor. Peter noticed his gaze and swiftly picked up the thrown items, tossing the empty wine bottle in the recycling and putting the rattling pill bottles down on the counter. Peter was slightly embarrassed that the apartment was such a mess after May’s ‘talk’ yesterday evening and self-consciously picked up where he could. Throwing the blanket over the couch, tossing on the throw pillows, putting away the empty cup, hanging up clothing items on the coat rack, and picking up individual pills from the floor to dispose of. Peter was sure Tony Stark had people for this kind of stuff and didn’t appreciate walking into his messy apartment. The genius had much higher standards and Peter felt embarrassed that he had to see this. But Tony only looked on, concerned.

“What’s with all the pills, kid?”

Peter didn’t look up and continued to grab them, gathering them in one hand and putting them in the hand that was being held to his chest protectively. He hoped the man didn’t notice anything was wrong with it.

“They’re May’s.” he replied.

“May’s?” Tony watched him, his worry growing.

Peter nodded.

“What are they for?” he asked the boy.

“Uh… she’s… she gets pains sometimes…” he said

“Pains?”

“Mmhm.” Peter affirmed vaguely.

 “What kind of pains, Peter?”

Peter frowned, it’d been a long time since he’d heard Mr. Stark call him by his real name, usually the man had a million nicknames for everyone, this must be serious.

“Uh… She just… she’s having a hard time. With her… back.” He lied. Older people usually had back problems, right? He didn’t know why he felt the need to lie about it, but he didn’t think Tony would approve of her _recreational_ usage. He seemed to accept the answer but something in his face told Peter that he didn’t believe him.

“So. How’s the _Spiderman-ing_ going?” Tony asked casually. Peter brought the pills back to the kitchen and put them on the counter in a pile, then went back to the couch. He felt awkward now that he had nothing to do with his hands. He felt something inside him wilt, of course, Mr. Stark was here for Spiderman not Peter. He shouldn’t be saddened by this, it was only to be expected but for some reason, he couldn’t help it.

“Uh, its good.” Peter replied.

“Uh- huh. That why no one’s seen you in who knows how long?”

Peter shrugged. Was Mr. Stark angry at him?

“What happened to ‘looking out for the little guy?’” Tony asked raising an eyebrow. Peter didn’t look at him. He’d been slacking, he didn’t know what to do, May didn’t want him out there—he’d been beaten enough to know that, but the disappointment in his mentor’s face was almost as bad.

“May wants me to stay here more often… she worries.” He said. Tony nodded thoughtfully.

“But I’m not quitting I promise! I just… needed a break to work some things out with her. That’s all.” Peter avoided his gaze.

Tony looked him up and down. The kid looked rough. He had faint red lines on his face and hands like healing cuts, a yellowed bruise on his temple and when Tony looked closer, he noticed Peter’s arm seemed… off.

“Let me see your arm, Pete.” He said, not taking his eyes off it.

“What? Why?” Peter asked defensively.

“I just want to see it that’s all.” Tony replied, his hands up in an I-mean-no-harm-way. Peter looked at him warily before slowly untucking his arm from his chest and holding it out.

Tony sucked in a breath. It was crooked, off a little to the left. He held it gently.

“What happened?”

Peter watched him suspiciously.

“I fell down the stairs.” He said truthfully.

Shit, kid. How did that happen?" Tony asked, touching lightly where the bones had fused together. Peter took a deep breath and without thinking he spoke.

"May pushed me."

Tony felt his entire world come to a halt.


	15. The Stand-Off

Chapter 15- The Stand-Off

Peter froze. What had he just said? He backtracked in his mind. He’d—He’d just told on May. Sure, she’d never told him that he wasn’t allowed to talk about what she did to him, but it seemed like it was supposed to be a secret. He didn’t think May was in the wrong… she was a kind,  _sweet_  woman, she was just angry and rightfully so. He hoped she wouldn’t punish him for telling Tony.

The anniversary of Ben’s death had been a hard day for them both. She was high, drunk, in grief and she had disciplined him by pushing him down the stairs, she’d told him so herself.  _‘It would be fine today if you had just listened to me.’_ She’d said.  He’d killed his uncle and one broken arm was a small price to pay. Besides, they were just in a rough patch. That was all this was—he was sure of it. May would get over it soon, she never stayed angry for long. He looked up at Tony’s face, the older man was shocked.

“Peter… what do you mean she pushed you?” he said, slowly.   
Peter gulped. He hoped he wasn’t making his mentor angry. He didn’t know what he would do if Tony was angry with him. Maybe he should lie, cover up the truth to protect himself and his Aunt from his mentor’s anger.

“I…It was an accident. I fell--” he began, but Tony cut him off angrily.

“Don’t give me that. I know you can’t lie for shit.”

Peter shut his mouth, afraid to say anything more. Now, Tony was definitely angry.

“Peter, I need you to look at me. I need you to tell me what’s going on.” He said seriously. Peter didn’t want to look, he didn’t want to see the disappointment on the billionaire’s face.

“…Was this why you didn’t want to come home the other day? And why no one’s been answering the phone?”

Peter had forgotten about that, he had been leaving a paper trail and he’d had no idea. And now, Tony was connecting the dots.

“How long has this been going on?” Tony asked. The boy still didn’t speak, simply looked at his lap in dejection. Tony was having none of it.

“Peter! I need you to answer me, damn it! Now!” he yelled. Peter jumped in fright. “How  _fucking_  long has she been doing this to you?”

Peter squeezed his eyes closed and shrunk into himself. Tony was pissed and now Peter was terrified. Never had he been afraid of Tony, but he had started to sound too much like May.

“Please don’t hit me.” He said softly without thinking.

“Jesus. Fucking  _hell_ , kid.” Tony stood up and began to pace. He wanted to tear his hair out, how long had this shit been going on? How long had he not noticed? How long had Tony been blind to the fact that  _his kid_  was  _hurting_?

“I need some air.” Tony said suddenly and walked out of the apartment and into the hallway.

Peter wanted to cry, to lament the loss of his mentor, but he didn’t. He knew he deserved what he got. Because now Tony was disgusted with him. He’d realized what a screw up Peter was. Realized he wasn’t good enough to be Spiderman and protect others if he couldn’t even protect himself. Now he would leave him—take his suit, never talk to him again, because without Spiderman, what use did the great Tony Stark have for useless little Peter Parker?

Outside in the hallway, Tony took a deep breath trying to calm himself, he wasn’t going to get anything out of the kid raging like this. He called Happy to pull around and wait for them, then stepped back into the apartment. Although Peter hadn’t moved from his spot, he looked up when Tony entered.

“So, we’re gonna talk about this later. I need you to come with me for a while, to the compound. At least until everything is… sorted.” Tony said thoughtfully with his hands in his pockets.

Peter just looked at him uncomprehendingly.

“Go pack a bag, I’ll wait.” He said, then leaned against the door looking at Peter expectantly.

“Um. Mr. Stark. I think I should wait for May…”

“Nope, no can do. We have to leave. Now.” Tony said impatiently.

“But, Mr. Stark… I—May will be worried.”

“Frankly, I don’t give a shit about what May thinks right now. I just need you to come with me.” Tony said flatly.

“Now, do you want to pack your bag yourself or do you need my help?” he asked condescendingly.

Peter thought for a moment, would May be angry that he just disappeared? Probably. She’d be furious if she found out he’d just left. Peter was torn. He didn’t want to make May angry, but he didn’t want to make Tony angry either. But one of them would be mad no matter what he did.

“But—May…”  he started. The billionaire rubbed a hand down his face in frustration. He walked over and crouched down in front of Peter who was still sitting on the sofa.

“Listen, kid. I know it’s… hard. But I can’t, with good conscience, leave you here with her. I just can’t. So, you can either come with me now or I can drag you out of here. It’s your choice.”

Peter wanted to fight, he was angry with Mr. Stark for making him leave. He stood up, it seemed like Mr. Stark was making this decision for him and he was leaving whether he wanted to or not. He went into his room and packed a bag as he was told to do, shoving things into it with reckless abandon.

Suddenly, he heard the front door open and that’s when everything crumbled. Tony walked up to his open bedroom door and shut it after telling him to stay put. He could hear the conversation outside though. He didn’t need enhanced hearing for that.

May had come home.

Peter finished packing and sat down on his bed to wait, he could hear a fight brewing beyond his door and his momentary anger dissipated into fear. May had come home and now he would be beaten for telling.  

“May.”

“Mr. Stark? What are you doing here?” Peter heard the front door close.

“I came to check on Peter—it’s been a while since I saw him. But, really, I need to talk to you.”

“Me? What for?” she asked politely.

“Peter and I have been talking and I learned some things about you and him. And frankly, I don’t think he’s safe here with you.”

May was startled at the sudden change of topic and angry that Tony thought he could waltz in her home and start insinuating things.

“And what the hell are you implying here, Stark? You saying I can’t take care of my kid?” she asked annoyed.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” Tony started, he wanted May to be riled up. He wanted to her to know that he knew exactly what was going on.

 “I come to check on him and he’s cleaning up after  _you_. Alcohol and pills fucking  _everywhere_. Even I know you keep that shit out of reach of minors. God knows what could have happened to him had he suddenly wanted to try something and taken too much. Fuck—then he comes over to me and I notice that his arm’s all fucked up and I’m wondering ‘what the hell happened?’ And you know what he says?” Tony paused for dramatic effect.

“He says  _you_   _fucking_   _pushed_   _him down the god damn stairs_.”

May was aghast. Peter had told him that? Fuck, she should have done something to make sure he didn’t squeal to anyone. He should have known that this was their secret, that he would have been taken away from her had he said anything. Thrown into the system before he could rightfully pay for what he had done to their family. May was beyond angry with him, that little mutant would suffer once she got her hands on him.

“I didn’t do  _shit_  to him.” She replied angrily. “I can’t believe you would ever  _insinuate_  that I would do  _anything_  to that child. And in my own fucking house. I should call the police and have you arrested for trespassing.”

Tony paused.

“Do it. Call them. I’ll tell them everything. And when—not if,  _when_ —you go to jail for child abuse, I’ll make sure you fucking  _rot_  in there. No parole, no rehab, no mercy. Not after what you’ve done. I’ll make sure Peter is safe and far away from you.”

“And what? Live with  _you_? You’re an alcoholic with a history, Stark. I’m his only family left. The court will rule in favor of me.”

“Yeah? And I’m sure all the evidence will mean nothing.” He taunted back.

“He heals fast. I know what he is Stark, I know the internship wasn’t real.”

“And I know when a broken bone heals incorrectly—I’m sure the court will too.”

Tony said, then walked up to Peter’s door knocking on it.

“Pete? It’s time to go.” He said, not taking his eyes off the seething May.

Peter shouldered his bag and quietly walked out of his bedroom. He looked at the ground fearfully, he didn’t want to see the look on May’s face. He’d told. How dare he talk about her like that?

“Peter?” she called softly; Peter looked up, startled.

“I thought you loved me. Tony Stark’s gonna put me in a cell if you don’t do something. I’ve always been there for you, baby. I’d never hurt you on purpose.”

“Peter don’t talk to her.” Tony said and Peter ignored him.

“I  _do_  love you May. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to tell, he just figured it out. I swear, I’m so sorry.” He turned to Tony. “Please don’t make me leave, Mr. Stark.”

“I’m sorry, Peter. But I can’t leave you here. I can’t let you get hurt. Not anymore.” He said then guided him out the door. Peter went out woefully, he hoped it wasn’t the last time he would see May.

“I’ll—I’ll come back, May. I won’t leave you. I know you’ve just been mad, but it’s ok. I’ll come back, I swear.” Peter promised. Tony didn’t have the heart to tell him that it was most definitely the last time he would see her. Tony would make sure of it. May’s soft demeaner flipped and she was seething once again. What Peter had said wasn’t good enough, he was still going with the man.

The two made it to the car and Tony shoved Peter into the car first, making sure he was the buffer between boy and his abusive Aunt who was currently following them and stalking toward the car with wild gestures.

“You can’t fucking  _take_  him, Tony! That’s kidnapping!” she shrieked. Tony rolled down the window.

“One,” he started, “He came with me willingly. He could have fought me and he didn’t which means on some level, he knows this is serious. And two, watch me. Happy, get us out of here.” Tony said nonchalantly rolling up his window.

“Yes, sir.” Happy replied, pulling out of the curb and leaving the fuming woman behind.

“Mr. Stark, please, I’m all she has.” Peter pleaded looking out the rear window watching May rage on the sidewalk. “I can’t just leave her.”

“I know, Pete, I know. Right now, you don’t see it. You might have been all she had but she had no right to treat you like shit. No one does. Not on my watch.”

Peter sat back down glumly, then turned to the window to watch the buildings go by, hugging his bag to his chest.

Tony sighed, then turned to his phone. He had work to do.    

They made it to the compound in one piece, tiredly getting out of the car and walking in the massive building.

“Alright, you know where your room is. I’m going to sort some shit out.” Tony said, leaving the teen in the lobby to go to his lab. He had arrangements to make regarding the boy that he had no intention of bombarding him with.

Peter stood still, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. His entire world had been flipped upside down. He actually had no idea how to get to his room from here, his only memory of it was when he was sick and he’d been carried there while asleep so he didn’t know how to get there.

He decided to wait until someone came around to ask so he sat down on a nearby chair and looked through his bag. He had homework he needed to complete. He crossed his legs up into the chair and set his notebook on his lap like a lumpy table. It would have to do.

He was halfway through the problems when someone passed by. He looked up to the very confused face of Sam Wilson.

“Hi…” the man said uncertainly.  

“Hi, Mr. Falcon sir. Peter greeted back, star struck.   

“Mr. Falcon sir? I could get used to that.” He laughed, and Peter smiled. He had done something right.

“How’d you get in here, kid?” he asked. Peter put his homework back in his bag.

“Mr. Stark brought me.” He replied.

“Uh- huh. Stark brought you. And he just left you here?” Falcon asked unbelievingly.  

“Mmhmm.” Peter affirmed.

“And who are you, exactly?” 

Peter paused, it seemed like his identity had yet to be revealed within the compound.

“… I’m Peter.”

“Right, so Peter, what are you doing here? You realize where you are right? Kids don’t just walk in the Avengers compound.”

Peter nodded.   
“I have a room here, I just don’t know where it is.” Peter said truthfully.

The Falcon gave another laugh.

“Sure, kid. You have a phone? We can call your parents to come get you.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Said Tony Stark, his words echoing in the spacious lobby as he walked in.

“Peter, I told you to go to your room. What are you still doing out here?” he asked the clueless boy.

“I don’t know where it is.” Peter replied.

“How can you not know where it is? You were there a few days ago.”

Peter shrugged helplessly and Tony sighed deeply.

“You know this kid?” Sam asked the billionaire.

“What—Of course I know this kid. He’s my kid.” Tony said nonchalantly. Both Peter and Sam’s eyes widened.

“ _Your_  kid?” Sam asked, shocked.

“Well, not  _my_  kid, not biologically. But he is my responsibility.” Tony said, ending the conversation.

“Come on. Let’s go.” He said, turning to Peter. Peter obediently followed as the man led him to his room.

“Bye, Mr. Falcon sir.” Peter said, waving at the shocked man.

 Sam gave a small wave back. Surely, Tony Stark hadn’t just said he was responsible for a kid, right? He was the least responsible person Sam knew. He must be dehydrated from his run and now his mind was going haywire. He took a sip of water from his water bottle. That must be it, he thought and continued his walk to the door shaking his head.

 

* * *

 

“Now, you know if you get lost, you can just ask FRIDAY, right?” Tony asked while they waited for the elevator to reach their floor.

Peter had completely forgotten about the AI and now he felt dumb for sitting around. He nodded.

“Anyway, this is your room, third door from the left.” He said, opening the bedroom door. “Put your stuff down. Are you hungry?”

Peter shook his head.

“Alright then. If you’re sure. I’m gonna go finish up in the lab. Tell FRIDAY if you need anything and she’ll alert me.” He said, then closed the door.

Peter out his bag down on the ground and laid back on the huge bed.  He didn’t remember the last time he ate, but it didn’t matter, he decided. If May wasn’t here to punish him for what he did, he would punish himself. He didn’t deserve to eat after what he’d done to May today.

A thought struck him, May claimed all the food in the apartment with full knowledge that he had no money to buy any, what if she found not eating as a suitable punishment? Bad kids didn’t get to eat, he’d been sent to bed without dinner when he was younger, so he knew this was true. Perhaps, if he punished himself for his transgressions in her absence, she could possibly see that he was serious about wanting to pay for what he had done. And maybe, just maybe, she’d find it within herself to forgive him.

 


	16. The Sudden Impact

Chapter 16- The Sudden Impact

Peter paced the room, he had to get out of there but how? Tony had left him to go to the lab for who knows what. He didn’t want to tell Peter anything. Just left him there. Peter was slightly offended that he was just dropped like that. Like an unwanted newspaper. He needed to get back to May, she needed him and he needed her. Tony, Ned and MJ just didn’t understand. There was nothing wrong with his and May’s relationship, they had simply hit a bump in the road. It was fine, Mr. Stark was just over exaggerating and overprotective.

He suddenly had an idea- he’d brought his suit, hadn’t he? It was at the bottom of the backpack he’d brought, just like it always was when he went out. Jackpot. Peter looked out into the hallway, he had to be quiet and unsuspecting if this was gonna work. He put on the suit and stealthily stepped out into the empty hall with his black school bag over his shoulders.

This was going to be interesting. He quietly climbed up the wall and stuck to the celling. He could only hope that no one would see him. He crawled on the celling for a while until he reached the living room, inside he could hear voices. The Avengers were talking about him.

“-and he was just sitting there, doing damn homework in the waiting room like this was the doctor’s office and he had an appointment!” Said Falcon, unbelievingly.

Clint whistled. “And you said nothing?”

“You shitting me? Of course, I said something! Random kid in the facility and no sensors go off?” He shook his head.

“Then he comes over telling me ‘Oh, Tony Stark brought me’, and—”

Peter really didn’t care to hear anymore. He focused on the task at hand, he had to get out of here. He crawled over the archway leading into the living room and crawled up to the vaulted ceiling. It was very high up here, but not high enough that he couldn’t still hear them talking.

“And now Tony’s making arrangements.” Falcon continued.

“Really?” Clint replied, pouring himself a cup of scotch and offering some to the other man. Sam declined and Clint shrugged.  
“And do you know what arrangements these are, exactly?” he asked, sitting back down on the couch.  
Peter stopped at this. Mr. Stark was making ‘ _arrangements’_? For what?

“Said something about the kid, maybe staying here awhile for personal reasons? I don’t know—” Peter was _not_ staying here. He had to get back home to May. He continued to crawl across the celling until he reached the exit. He looked around to see if anyone had followed him before jumping to the ground and pushing open the heavy glass doors. He took a deep breath of the cool night air. He was free.

Peter then swung his way back to Queens. It was a long way back, one he only knew from the backseat of Happy’s car. But eventually he made it back, passing landmarks he knew such as his school and Mr. Delmar’s. Until finally, he made it home, sticking to the side of the apartment building and climbing in his bedroom window.

It was… dark and smelled odd. He didn’t want to frighten May or make her angry if he stepped out in his suit so, he carefully peeled off his suit and put on the first clothes he found (which happened to be Star Wars themed pajamas) like he always did when he came home from patrol. It was like _before_.

Quietly, he opened his creaky bedroom door that led to the hallway, and automatically scrunched his nose as the acidic smell of strong alcohol hit him in the face. Against his better judgement he walked out into the hall, closing the door behind him. It was so dark, it was hard to see his own hands in front of his face.

He walked blindly in hoped to find May, stepping on the small round pills that cluttered the floor. There were dozens of them imbedded in the carpet. He felt the floor change to linoleum as he reached the kitchen and was caught off guard by an unexpected sharp pain in his foot as he stepped on something sharp. He gasped in surprise and stepped back, fumbling for the light switch on the wall.

Peter blinked in the sudden harsh light that filled the room, and was entirely unprepared for what he saw. Every single the dish, mug and drinking glass had been smashed on the ground, pieces covering the entirety of the kitchen floor. All the cabinets hanging open, empty. He gaped and took another step back, careful of where he stepped.

A smear of blood was left from where he had previously been standing and he looked at the bottom of his foot where a small piece of porcelain had imbedded itself in his skin. He grimaced and removed it with his fingernails, then tossed the bloody fragment in the nearby trash can. That taken care of, he left the kitchen light on and proceeded to resume his task.

Meanwhile at the compound, Tony Stark had finished tinkering with his latest project, wiping his hands of the oil on a nearby rag.

“FRIDAY, how’s the kid?” he asked, sipping on a nearby drink.

“Mr. Parker is currently not in the building.” FRIDAY replied robotically.

“ _What_? What do you mean he’s not here?” Tony stood up off his stool, staring at the celling, waiting for a response.

“Mr. Parker is currently not in the building.” The AI repeated.

“What—Why the _hell_ didn’t you say anything?” Tony shouted, panicked.

“I was unaware he was prohibited from leaving.” She said smoothly.

Tony shoved on his blazer and grabbed his car keys.

“Shit, FRIDAY.” He said, climbing into his unnecessarily expensive car.

“Fuck. Call 911. Send them to Peter’s apartment, I’m on my way.” Tony stated and the engine roared to life, screeching out of the underground garage.

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

 

Peter crept down the dark hallway, the kitchen light only illuminating the entrance making the rest of the hall look much more ominous and frightening. It seemed to stretch on forever. He finally reached May’s bedroom door, opening it slowly, terrified of what he might find.

He snuck into the room and spotted her lying in bed asleep with the fluffy duvet covering her. Peter stood by the bed unsure of how to proceed, but she chose for him—waking up in alarm and instinctively reaching behind the bed. She sat up and with all her strength swung a wooden baseball bat, hitting the side of his head with a sickening crack. He fell heavily to the ground with a gasp and clutched his head.

Had it been anyone else, they would have been instantly knocked out, but Peter wasn’t anyone else, his body could take a punch. But, that didn’t mean it hurt any less. He landed on his bad arm, cracking it. That was the last straw.

He screamed loudly in pain and May moved back in shock and the neighbors were awoken. From all sides, the neighbors banged on the walls, shouting. Blood rushed down his head and began to fill from his mouth as he shrieked.

 “Peter?”

She stayed still on the bed, watching him writhe on the carpet and the neighbors yelled through the wall that they were calling the police over the noise. Peter stopped screaming and clutched his head.

A harsh knock on the door brought everything to a halt and Peter sucked in a breath. He sat up slowly and scooted back to the wall, leaning on it for support as he gasped through the pain. He could feel the entire side of his face begin to swell and bleed. Some of the bones were crunching together and moving around. The feeling made him want to puke.

“This is the police, open up!”

Apparently, someone else had called them first. May got up from the bed, her eyes wide on the door.

“Fuck.” she whispered, covering her mouth with her hand. Peter looked up at her expectantly, was she going to open the door? Her hands shook and she turned to crouch in front of him.

“Peter, I’m so sorry I hit you. You shouldn’t have scared me like that. What did I tell you about waking me up like that?” She said, hugging him tightly. He whimpered in discomfort as his arm was crushed between them and she let go searching his face. She didn’t seem too concerned about what had happened.  

“…not to.” He slurred pitifully.

“That’s right.” She said, wiping away the blood that dripped from the corner of his mouth. “Now, you’ve gone and fucked up your face.”  
He grimaced, she was right, what was he thinking sneaking up on her like that?

“’m sorry, May.”

Someone banged on the door again, drawing their attention. “Open up!” someone shouted.

May turned back to him again.

“Now, Peter. They’re probably gonna try and take you away from me. Don’t you dare fucking let them. I love you, you hear me, Peter? You don’t tell them shit. You do bad things, you get punished. It’s called discipline. Its what parents do when their kids act up. You’re smart, you know that.”  
Peter nodded slowly, his head was fuzzy.

She nodded sharply too, and stood up taking a deep breath.

“Right.” She said, then drank a couple of random pills from the nightstand and walked to the door. She braced herself and opened it.

“Hi, sorry I was in the shower. What can I do for you?” she said with a fake smile.

“Ma’am.” The police officer nodded professionally. “I am Officer Gregory Stan, and this is my partner—Officer Alicia Davis.”

The woman nodded to her, not smiling. “Evening, ma’am.”

“We were alerted this evening of a disturbance within the home?”

May smiled politely and thought for a moment. This had to be the work of Tony Stark.

“No disturbances here, officers.”

“You mind if we have a look for ourselves?” asked the officer. Abruptly, the next-door neighbors burst out mumbling profanities in Spanish about how he would give the Parkers a piece of his mind and bumped into the group of people standing in the hall. It dragged everyone’s attention to him.

“Oh! You are here! You are very quick.” remarked the man with a thick accent. A woman holding a baby on her hip followed him.

“Rosalinda! Go back inside!” the man told her. She stayed where she was and turned to the officer, ignoring her husband entirely.

“I am very worried. I heard the boy screaming next door. He sounds hurt. I need to know he is okay.”

They turned to May, who looked at them with wide eyes.

“That counts as probable cause, doesn’t it?” the second officer asked rhetorically. The Lead Officer ignored her.

“Ma’am, I’m gonna need you to step aside.”

May did so and knew she had been caught. The Spanish family went back into their apartment, satisfied the police would handle it and not wanting to get in the way. The policeman stood watching May with one hand on his gun holster while Officer Davis inspected the home in search for the supposed child.

The kitchen was a mess of broken dishes and the entire house smelled like strong liquor. She continued her search and found countless bottles of different opioids under at least twenty different people’s names, that was a felony right there—stolen drugs.

The pills crushed under her boots as she walked and the bottles of alcohol catching the bright LEDs of her flashlight. She hoped no kid lived here, just by having this kind of stuff lying around in the environment that held a minor was a case of child neglect. A misdemeanor at least.

Peter heard the commotion and watched the door with eyes the size of dinner plates. Suddenly a bright light was shone on him and he squinted, covering his face with the unbroken arm.

The officer turned on the bedroom light switch and turned off the flashlight, storing it in her belt. She smiled softy, a smile she only reserved for frightened children, although, this one was an older one. She looked him over and silently took a mental check of all his visible injuries. She softly spoke into her walkie-talkie.

“We’re gonna need those paramedics.” she turned back to him.

"Hey, there son." she said quietly. Peter looked at her with mistrust. May had said they were going to take him away, didn't she? His head swam and nothing seemed to be making sense. He should ask. That's what they always said in school, right? If you don't know something, don't be afraid to ask. He looked at her blearily. 

“Are you gonna take me away?”

Her smile wilted a bit.

“Not right now. Can I talk to you for a bit?” she asked.

“…Okay.” That was okay, right? His head hurt too much and he brought his unbroken arm to inspect it.

“No, no, don’t touch that. You’re really hurt.” He brought his hand back down.

“What’s your name, hon?” 

“Peter.”

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Peter. I'm Officer Davis." 

Peter hummed, it hurt to speak.

The officer turned around, standing.

“Yeah, he’s in here.” She said softly out the door, all the sudden the room burst into movement as paramedics rushed in, it was all too much for his head and he began to panic. There was only two of them and they had come in relatively calmly, but his head injury was really messing with him. They checked him over and when they noticed the wound on his head, they shinned a pen-light in his eyes. They didn’t seem to like what they saw and they pushed him until he was lying on the ground, telling him to lie still. He did so and they maneuvered him into the mandatory neck brace.

Someone sat behind him and held his head straight, then pressed a gauze to his face to stop the bleeding which cause him to flinch. They redid the penlight test and a couple others and began rattling off numbers and directions to each other. He was dizzy. Then began to ask him questions, there were too many people, too much noise, too much pain, too much everything. So, he did what any kid in his situation did, he began to cry. The paramedic holding the gauze looked at him startled by the sudden tears.

“Hey, hey, hey, Peter, kid. Look at me.” Peter did so. “You’re ok. You are gonna be just fine.” The other paramedic carefully took hold of his broken arm and swore before setting it down on the backboard. Peter wondered when they had put that there. The paramedic began putting in an IV and wrapping his head with bandages. The bleeding would not stop. He sobbed and the tears mixed with the blood running down his face. His mouth tasted like copper and one of his back teeth felt loose, but he’d already lost and regrown that tooth years ago. This wasn’t right. The man tried to get his attention back.

“Hey, don’t look at that.” The phrase eerily reminded him of the time when he had failed. When he’d killed those people. His breath hitched.

“Breathe, you’ll be okay. How old are you, huh, Pete?” The paramedic asked, trying to distract him. The other paramedic, finished wrapping his arm and began an IV. It was like a silent pact, this man would fix up Peter, and the other would distract him.

“I…” he started, but cut himself off with a shuddering breath. He swallowed some of the blood, making him feel slightly sick.

“’m fifteen.” He replied.

“Fifteen, huh? You do good in school, you hear me?”

“Ready.” Said the patching-up-paramedic softly. The distracting-paramedic nodded and a woman rolled in a gurney.

“Alright, Peter.” Said Distracting-Paramedic. “We’re gonna get you to the hospital and fix you up, okay? On three.” He told the other man.

“One, two, three!” and the two men lifted him with the backboard off the ground and onto the bed before pushing the gurney. They swiftly left the apartment and when they reached the hallway, Peter couldn’t find May. Where had they taken her? He was then put into the back of an ambulance, where they turned on the siren.

“Is he alright?” asked a man, joining them on the truck.  
“He’ll be fine.” Replied Distracting-Paramedic, setting up more things in the ambulance. 

“He’s a tough kid, Mr. Stark.”

Mr. Stark? When had he gotten here?

“Hey, there kid. You okay?” Peter said nothing, his face was too swollen to speak comfortably anymore and the pain in his head and arm was reaching an excruciatingly level. The pain suddenly lessened as medication was pushed through his IV.

Tony sighed deeply and held his head in his hands as Peter fell silent, this was his fault, he should have been watching him. Now, due to his negligence, the kid was being carted off to the ER.

“You’re gonna be okay. I’ll make sure of it.” he told Peter and the boy only looked at him blankly.

They reached Queens Memorial and the doctors Tony had specifically asked for rushed in to take the boy to the OR for emergency surgery. They had to commence craniofacial reconstruction surgery.

Tony pulled out his phone while he sat in the waiting room. He shot off a text to his lawyer but the man had told him that there was an immense amount of paper work that Tony would need to fill out before anything could happen.

* * *

 

Twelve hours later of anxious pacing and talking with his lawyer, CPS, and the police, a decision regarding Peter had been settled on. He walked into the room stiffly, it was time to talk to him.

Tony Stark had been in hospitals multiple times for treatment of all kinds of things, most notable being his heart. However, nothing in the world prepared him to see Peter so small and weak on that hospital bed with bandages covering the entirety of the right side of his face and around his head. His arm had been reset as well. He had wires and tubes coming out from under his hospital gown leading to several beeping machines. Tony blanched. This was a scene he’d never wished to see.

Slowly, he managed to make his legs work and he walked over to the bed, sitting on a nearby chair, now he would wait. An hour later, a groan took Tony out of his musings. Peter blinked his heavy eyes open. Where was he? The strong smell of cleaner and the sound of a heart monitor told him he was in the hospital. Why was he in the hospital?  
“Morning, kiddo.”

Peter turned, startled. Tony Stark was sitting at his bedside.

“…’ony?”

“The one and only.”

Peter inspected himself, his arm was in a cast.  He brought it up to inspect his head and felt a lot of gauze, it was itchy.

“Hey, hey, don’t touch that.” Tony said, pushing his arm down. Peter looked around the room blearily, there was someone missing.

“May?” he asked the older man. Tony looked away angrily and Peter frowned.  

“...What do you remember, Pete?” he asked.

Peter blinked. He’d been at the compound, he’d seen the Falcon!

“May hit you with a bat, Pete.” Tony said after a moment. Peter looked at him uncomprehendingly. Tony got out of his chair and paced angrily. He’d been thinking about what he was going to say for hours and all of that was going out the window.

“She hit you with a goddamn bat. What were you thinking, going back there?! I got you out for a reason!” he fumed. Peter said nothing and everything came flooding back. May had hit him with a bat, but it was because she was startled, she thought he was an intruder.

“Accident.” He tried, but Tony was having none of it.

“Accident!? She completely wrecked your face! They had to replace a tooth! You have screws in your bones because of her!” Tony took a deep breath to calm himself before turning back to the boy.

Peter shrank back.

“She’s going to jail, Peter. I’m gonna make sure of it.” He said without preamble. “And while I do the paperwork so you can live with me, you’re gonna stay with Ned.”

Peter wilted, he didn’t want to stay with Ned, he wanted to go home. Home to May. Tony, having said what he needed to say, left the room. Peter took a deep breath and a tear ran down his face. He just wanted everything to go back to normal.


	17. The Stretch of Isolation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please be aware that this chapter includes implied references to self harm as well as major depression. Read at your own risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AUTHOR’S NOTE:  
> Dear Faithful Readers,  
> If anyone would like to Beta this, let me know.  
> This is my first story and I am so grateful to have so many people who like it! It’s so amazing to have influenced this fandom somewhat. However, do not worry, I am NOT abandoning this story! It’s just taking me a while to write because recently my part-time job has become my full-time job (because it’s summer) and just get home so tired I go to bed and wake up early the next day to do it all over again (adulting am I right?).  
> I keep this story in the back of my mind constantly though, thinking it through and tweaking it constantly. But, I just wanted to let you all know, because, I know a couple of you are watching it religiously and I felt guilty…like I needed to at least reassure you that I didn’t forget about you, I promise I just got busy. I will work on this whenever I can!  
> P.S. Never stop commenting, I just love to read them all. They inspire me to write, and speaking of, if you have any ideas on what should happen next, let me know. I need all the help I can get.  
> -Jipseebree

Chapter 17- The Stretch of Isolation

 

Peter didn’t even know what day it was anymore, but that night he slept like a rock—the heavy modified medications doing their job and the next morning, he felt slightly better. Tony Stark’s personal doctors and nurses had done routine checks all night regarding his head--under the upmost security. If any of them were to talk about him or his genetic mutations to anyone, they’d be fired on the spot as well as face the wrath of the infamous Iron Man.

That morning, the Police had also come in to take photographs of his injuries, documenting them for his case. The thought that he even had a case to begin with made him unbearably sad, he’d ruined everything. He had been stupid and opened his mouth. Too many times had he let the truth slip out. No one had ever told him it was a secret, but in the back of his mind, he knew it was. Perhaps some part of him wanted it to stop no matter the consequences. But now Tony knew he was a failure. He’d failed Tony, Ned, MJ, Happy, Ben, the people in the alley, but most importantly, May. He had been so incredibly _stupid_. And now they were both paying the price.

Police and social services had asked him hundreds of questions. What happened? What did he do? What did _she_ do? How long had this been going on? Had he told anyone? Did anyone know? Where was he hurt? How was he hurt? How much did May drink? What did she drink? How long had she been drinking? Where did the medications come from? Did he know what they were for? Whatever he had told them, no matter how much he tried to hide it—May was still going to jail. ‘The next time he would see her would be in court. _If_ they even ask you to make a testimony,’ Tony told him. It was obvious what had happened and the forensic investigators hardly had to look at the scene, gathering evidence like candy out of a piñata.

Peter wondered if they had found the bat. His head hurt at the memory, although, by now, Peter’s concussion had already faded and he could think much clearer. But his arm, was to remain in its hardened casing at least for a few days, the doctor had said. And today, the bandages on his head were going to come off. He was relieved, they were unbearably itchy.

He rolled over in the hospital bed and faced the large window, his IV tugging uncomfortably in his arm. He pulled the scratchy covers up over his shoulders and listened as an infuriated Tony Stark argued with someone outside in the hallway. Tony, knowing about Peter’s hearing, had pushed the person down the hall until he was sure Peter couldn’t hear them; and now the conversation was too muffled to tell what it was about. Only that it was heated. Someone opened the door softly behind him and he ignored it, instead watching the tree outside his window sway with the wind.

“Peter?”

It was Ned. Peter didn’t want to talk to him. The other boy sat down in the chair next to his bedside, uncomfortably fidgeting. He was silent for a moment; the only noise—the ever-present heart monitor beeping steadily.

“Are you okay?” Ned asked, then backtracked nervously.  
“Oh shit, of course you’re not okay. Sorry. That was a stupid question.” Ned went quiet again.

“So… my mom said you’re gonna stay with us for a while. I got the top bunk ready for you…”

Peter said nothing.

“I’m really sorry about what happened, Peter. Like, seriously—I —I had no idea. I should have noticed sooner so you wouldn’t be in this mess. MJ and I knew something was up and we didn’t _do_ anything. I’m _so_ sorry.”

Again, Peter said nothing and Ned began to get desperate.  
“Peter, _please._ Say _something_.” And Peter sighed, turning to face him.

“What do you want me to say, Ned?” he asked defeated. He sat up slowly, leaning against the flat pillows. “They took me away and sent May to jail. Over an _accident_. That _I_ caused. I have literally no one left. What do you want me to say?”

But Ned didn’t know and he looked down to the tile avoiding his friend’s pleading face. The door opened again and Ned’s mom walked in with a nurse in colorful scrubs.

“Hey, sweetheart.” She said to Ned, then turned to Peter, her eyes softening in pity. “Hey, Peter. How are you feeling?” Peter looked down to his lap where he fidgeted with the blanket. He shrugged and the nurse fiddled with the assorted machines he was attached to. She methodically took his blood pressure and stuck a thermometer under his tongue. It beeped and the reading told her he was well into recovery.

“Alright, Peter, it looks like you’re doing great. Do you think we can take off those bandages?” The pediatric nurse asked gently.

Peter felt slightly annoyed, he wasn’t a baby, he wasn’t someone she could pity and coddle. But he had to contain his close to spilling anger, he didn’t want to hurt anyone. He was just so _sick_ of being the victim. She got closer and began to unravel the bandages covering the entire left side of his face. It hid swollen wounds sewn shut with thin black thread.

She uncovered it carefully, trying her best to peel the fabric off without taking skin with it. In the end, she managed and he felt a cool air brush over the newly uncovered skin. He touched it with his hand, it was still swollen and he could feel the lumpy stitches.

“Hey, don’t touch that.” The nurse reprimanded, “Your hands are full of germs. You don’t want an infection.” She said, then messed around with a couple more machines before taking her leave.

Ned and his mother had remained in the room, her hand on her son’s shoulder as he sat at Peter’s bedside. They studied his wounded face and Peter leaned back down on the pillows and turned away from their prying eyes. It wasn’t their business to be looking at him like that. Like he was someone else. Something fragile.

In a way, though, he was. He could feel the depression overwhelming him. He sighed deeply and let the drug-induced sleep over take him.

He was jostled into wakefulness the next afternoon. He blinked his tired eyes open, confused, as a new nurse was pulling at the EKG patches, taking off the wires. They were unhooking him. She looked at him, startled that he was awake. Although, Peter could hardly imagine why it would be startling, she was messing around with him and moving him around. Of course, he would wake up.

“Right on time. I was just about to wake you up.”  She said and continued working in a cold methodical manner. He hissed as she pulled out the IV needle.

“You’re going home today. You’re gonna be fine. Take pain medications every six hours with food, it might hurt to eat, so you might want to stick to more liquid foods like oatmeal and Jell-O. Drink plenty of fluids, too. Your temporary guardians will keep hold of them to prevent misuse as you are a minor. They have already been informed of all of this so I’m just giving you a brief summary so you’re in the know.” She said.

She tossed some neatly folded clothes on the bed.

“The swelling in your face has gone down a lot and the concussion is completely gone. However, the skin’ll still be tender for a couple of days. The stitches will dissolve, but you’ll still need a follow up appointment to get that cast off in about two weeks.” She sighed.

“I know this is a lot of information to take in, but it’s all written down on the discharge paperwork so you don’t need to worry about remembering it all. So, get dressed. I’ll get the wheel chair. Mr. Stark wants you out of here as soon as possible.”

Peter watched as she left and turned to the clothes. Ned and his mother would be here soon to take him to their house. But he didn’t want to go to their house. He felt like a petulant child, but he really, really wanted to go home.

 He wanted everything back to the way it used to be. He’d take the Vulture all over again if he could just go back to before May had seen him in his suit. He’d never felt more stupid. If he could have told himself what was going to happen as May opened that door, he would have never tried it on. Peter would have thrown it out the window or in the attic or _something_ , just so May wouldn’t have seen it. So, none of this would have happened.

Peter put on the simple outfit, it was something out of his own closet, he noticed. The nurse came back in as he put on his shoes. He attempted with no success to tie the laces with one arm. The nurse made to help him but he stuffed them into the sides of his shoes before she could.

“I can walk.” He stated, standing up off the hospital bed with care.

“Sorry, hospital policy.” She said matter-of-factly.

Peter groaned and plopped into the uncomfortable chair. She made haste and quickly pushed him through the hospital and out the automatic doors.

“Peter!” he heard, and looked up to see Ned running towards him. The nurse allowed him to stand again and Ned pulled him by the unbroken arm to the purple van, thanking her as she left. Peter held in a groan but allowed himself to be led.

Ned was far too excited about this, he chatted on about everything like they were little kids going to have a sleepover again. Not like Aunt May was carried off by the police and now he had nowhere to go.

“And while you were gone, Flash asked about you. No one knows what really happened, just that something happened to your aunt and now you have to stay with me for a while. Tony’s keeping it under wraps, but MJ knows. But that’s not really surprising, she knows everything. So, anyway, while you were away, we had homework and I asked all the teachers for yours so. I can help you out if you need it too. Oh! And there’s a new meme—Here look.”

Ned pulled out his phone and Peter sighed. He understood Ned was trying to be helpful, but it wasn’t working.

“Hey, Ned? Maybe—Can you show me later?” Peter asked leaning his head against the cool glass of the window.

“Oh! Yeah, sure.” Ned said quickly and shoved his phone back in his pocket. He fumbled with his fingers unsure what to do now. The air grew thick with awkward tension and Ned’s mother turned on the radio. Peter and Ned relaxed into their seats and listened to the soft eighty’s pop that emanated from the speakers.  
The group slowly got out of the van once they pulled into the driveway when Ned’s little sister bombarded them.

“Neddy!” she cried, rushing to greet her brother, Ned bend down to give her the hug she requested.

“Hi, Peter.” She said, waving to him. Peter waved and gave a half-smile back out of politeness.

Ned’s sister turned back to her brother, pulling him into the house by the arm with sticky fingers.

“Ned! I gotta show you what I made! It has glitter!” she announced as the bright blue sparkles transferred from her fingers to his shirt sleeve.

Ned allowed himself to be led, looking back a few times to see if Peter was following who walked in slowly behind the two.               

Peter followed them through the door, holding onto the straps of his backpack that had been dropped off for him curtesy of a silently furious Mister Stark. He shuffled inside the dimly lit house and heard Ned’s little sister talking about her drawing to a falsely interested big brother.

Mrs. Leeds walked in behind him setting the keys down on the table by the door.

“Make yourself at home Peter. You know where everything is. I’m gonna start dinner—something simple. You like spaghetti, don’t you?” she asked rhetorically, passing by him as she walked into the kitchen.

Peter didn’t answer and watched as the family got into their routine, awkwardly standing in the hallway. He’d never felt so alone.

The littlest Leeds finished her monolog and turned to the fridge, removing a magnet and sticking her artwork to the stainless steel. Shiny blue plastic glitter leading a trail from the island countertops across the tiles and onto the fridge. Mrs. Leeds looked at the mess and shook her head with a smile.

“You know where the broom is, missy.” She said and the little girl giggled mischievously before retrieving the broom.  

Peter sighed, feeling out of place and Ned walked up to him. Waving a hand at him to follow. They went up the wooden stairs and into the first bedroom. It was spacious, as much as the rest of the Leeds’s household was. It was clear by the size and luxuriousness of the home that Ned was not a scholarship student like Peter was.

Ned sat down on the beanbag chair in front of the medium-sized television that sat on top of his dresser.

“Come on dude, I got this new game that I’ve been dying to show you. It’s got co-op so you can grab a controller.”

Peter wearily dragged a hand down his face. He wasn’t in the mood to play video games right now.

“Uh. Ned?” he stuttered, trying to break it to his friend gently. “I uh. I think I’m gonna go to bed actually. I’m beat—ya know, after all that time in the hospital? Maybe—uh, maybe you can show me tomorrow?”

Peter asked, but really, he doubted he would be up for a game tomorrow or for a while in all honesty. He was tired. Bone-weary after all that had happened.

“Oh. Yeah, uh, sure. Tomorrow.” Ned replied, somewhat crestfallen. Peter felt slightly guilty that he’d disappointed his friend. “So, uh. You’re gonna go to bed then?”

Peter nodded and set down his bag by the desk awkwardly.  Ned nodded back, the tension back again and turned back to the TV.

“Do you mind if I…?” he trailed off and pointed to the TV.

“Oh, no, dude go ahead. It’s your house.” Peter replied and Ned leaned back in his chair, retrieving his gaming headphones to control the noise and turned on a different video game. He turned off the lights and Peter got onto the top bunk of Ned’s bed after removing his shoes.

Peter faced the wall and pulled up the blankets over his shoulders not bothering to do anything but lie there and watch the wall turn different colors as the video game continued behind him.

He fell asleep not long after.

* * *

 

This pattern continued for days, Peter hardly got up to do anything but go to the restroom anymore. He felt numb. He was sure the only thing May would be proud of anymore was that he’d taken the punishments into his own hands. He’d limited himself to only eating when his blood sugar got so low his hands began to shake, and then only ate enough to get them to stop. He’d stop vigilantly-ing all together and thought exclusively about his actions. He’d dig his nails into his skin to punish himself when he thought was necessary. It was soothing when he finally got justice for the ones he’d hurt. He picked at the scabs that quickly formed, gaining scars in their place.

The Leeds’s family left him alone for the most part, only coming in to ask if he was hungry or needed to talk, which he did neither. Mrs. Leeds also asked him if he needed medication, which he always replied no to, it was another way he was punishing himself. If May wasn’t here to keep him in his place, he was confident he could so it himself—at least until she came back.

Mr. Stark hadn’t visited in days, but Ned told him that the news was having a field day, talking about how Mr. Stark was filing for custody of a mystery child. There were speculations and bets on who it would be, charts being filled out and money being placed like it was a sports game and people were guessing who would win. Mr. Stark refused to reveal what was going on, ignoring the press—which was so unlike him—but somehow the news had leaked through, no matter what the billionaire had not said.

Ned and his sister had continued to go to school and Peter continued to lay in bed. While they were gone, his depression crept in on him, swallowing him whole. He hid under the blankets weeping for what he had lost in the privacy of the empty home. Mrs. Leeds however, had taken off work to care for what was left of him, encouraging him to do things and be active. She could only do so much though, leaving food and monitoring medication. But, Peter wasted away little by little, caught in the grasp of a deep depression.

He wanted to go home.

 


	18. The Soup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SEVERE PANIC ATTACK WARNING BEGINS AND ENDS WITH 3 ASTERISKS ***

Chapter 18: The Soup

 

Peter sat at the dinner table stirring the soup Ms. Leeds had prepared. The Leeds family was enjoying grilled cheese sandwiches after a long day of both work and school. The crunching of people biting into the toasted bread made Peter feel itchy and nauseated. Ms. Leeds sat at the head of the table and pretended not to watch him. Peter felt unbearably guilty that she had gone through the trouble of making the soup, he was never hungry anymore nor did he deserve such kindness. However, he had taken a couple of bites out of politeness, she’d gone through the trouble of making it for him, he wasn’t going to let it go to waste. He was nothing if not polite. He couldn’t get down anymore soup and stirred it to perhaps make it look more appetizing to his nonexistent appetite.

 His stomach, though, still ached in rejection of the heavy tomato soup after having gone so long being empty. The soup had gotten cold by now becoming thicker as the heat left it. Peter lifted the metal spoon into the air and let the soup fall into the ceramic bowl to join the rest. It was disgusting for the soup had congealed like old blood. At this thought he dropped his spoon missing the edge of the bowl with a clink and saw as the utensil was swallowed by the red liquid. Getting covered, overwhelmed, _drowned_ in the blood.

 

***

Peter gagged and felt the acid of the tomato soup mixed with bile climb its way up his throat. He quickly scooted backwards, and the chair screeched loudly across the hardwoods of the dining room alarming the Leeds and shaking the table. His bowl of soup teetering on the edge on the table before smashing to the ground with a loud crash. Ned’s little sister gave a shriek of surprise and the pandemonium of sounds ground in his ears only making him feel worse. He covered his ears to try to ignore the noises. All eyes were on him. He took a shaky breath and gagged again moving one hand to cover his mouth and the other around his sloshing stomach and closing his eyes tightly in an attempt to gain control. His legs were Jell-O and it was taking all his willpower just to keep everything in and just breathing through his nose.

“Ava, go upstairs.” Mr. Leeds said firmly. Ned’s little sister sat shocked watching Peter who looked like he was white as a sheet.

“Ava!” The little girl jumped and looked to her father with wide eyes. “Go upstairs. Now.”

The first grader hurried to do as she was told, he chair screeching across the floor as she hopped off, trying not to look back at the frightened boy who she had always known to be so calm, fall apart at her family’s dining room table. His face pinched in such primal fear would haunt her for years to come. Peter was not in his right mind at that moment and the little girl did not need to see the episode.

“Edward--” began Mr. Leeds.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Ned interrupted. Mr. Leeds looked conflicted but accepted it when his son looked at the other boy protectively. Ms. Leeds nodded then crouched on the opposite side of the trembling teen.  

“He can stay. Honey, go check on Ava. We’ll take care of him.” Ms. Leeds assured her husband. There was too much for Peter to handle right now and he didn’t need even more people in the room than necessary. Mr. Leeds nodded in affirmation and went up the stairs after their daughter.

Peter took in another shaky breath and Ned began to rub soothing circles on his back. It was nice and he took another deep breath. All at once the smell of tomato soup turned to copper. His stomach lurched unexpectedly, and he had no time to hold anything back. Ned and his mother jumped back from their positions at his sides when he shot forward and vomited into his own lap. He coughed, red painting him. Peter’s breathing began to pick up speed, coming out harsher. He heard some curses come from the others in the room.

 There was blood _everywhere_. Just like in the alley way, just like when May punished him with the bat. Blood covering the floor, blood dripping out of his mouth onto the oversized grey sweatpants Ned had let him borrow, blood dripping off his lap and down to the floor. He couldn’t breathe, his heart was pounding so fast, he was so afraid. So absolutely _terrified._ He was breathing so quickly it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. And he felt so warm, yet so cold at the same time. He could hardly hear anything over his own heartbeat. All he could see was the blood. So much blood. All his fault. He didn’t know what to do.

His breath hitched harshly and he gasped out a sob. The tears beginning to drip down his cheeks and the sobs making it even harder to breath. He was so afraid, it was like he was at home with an angry May.

“Please, no,” he gasped.

 He didn’t think he could take it if someone hit him again. It didn’t matter that he deserved it for ruining the night, for dropping the bowl, for falling apart, for being a burden, for being hysterical, for being a mutant, for being _himself_. The Leeds didn’t deserve this. He needed something to hold onto, something so he wouldn’t float away. He gripped the hem of his t-shirt hysterically, balling it up in his hands and holding tightly, attempting to ground himself. The tears ran faster down his face as he cried loudly.

The Leeds didn’t know what to do. Ned had seen Peter’s panic attacks before, but never had he seen them on this level. This was beyond crying in the bathroom, this was a mental breakdown. Ned looked to his mother for help, trying to see if the adult in the room knew what to do. Ms. Leeds looked somewhat shocked as well then remembered herself. Peter seemed to have been triggered by whatever was wrong with the tomato soup.

“Edward, get a towel, we’re gonna hide this mess then I’m gonna see if I can get him to calm down. If I can’t, I’m gonna need you to call 911, you hear me?”

Ned nodded and rushed to the bathroom to retrieve a few towels. He ran back tossing one on the ground and Ms. Leeds took one and shook it out before placing it over the mess on Peter’s lap. Then she put on the voice she used when their youngest was crying, a voice reserved only for special circumstances.

“Hey there, Pete. Can you hear me?” she asked gently.

Peter sobbed and looked up slowly.  tears dripping down his reddened splotchy cheeks and quieting at the sound of her voice. He looked behind her, the blood had been covered. Breathing got easier.

***

“There you are.” The woman said with a kind smile. Ned watched on nervously. Peter sobbed again and looked at her helplessly. She ran her fingers though his hair soothingly, it had been a while since he had been comforted by someone other than himself. It helped and his sobs lessened.

“What’s wrong, *keiki?” she asked him softly.

Peter rubbed a palm over one eye. His breathing had slowed down considerably, leaving him exhausted yet relieved that he could breathe once more.

“…The blood…I’m scared.” He hiccupped sounding exactly like the child he was.

“There was so much blood.” Saying it aloud made him want to panic once more, but he looked to Ned’s mother for guidance with wide eyes.

“Oh, keiki. There is no blood here. Only soup.” Peter looked at her doubtfully and she firmly restated it.

“I swear to you, Peter. There is no blood. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

 He nodded, attempting to convince himself.

“You are okay. Take a deep breath, *pēpē.” Peter did so, wiping away what was left of the hot tears and sniffling. She nodded back.

“Are you okay, now, Peter?” Ned asked with a warily expression still on his face. Peter sniffed then nodded slowly. He was okay.

Ned and his mother cautiously got Peter to stand, taking the towel with them to cover the red. When he saw the stains, he felt guilty for borrowing Ned’s clothes and hope the other boy wouldn’t be too angry. Not that Peter believed Ned was the type to get angry over something like that. He got undressed in the privacy of the bathroom and looked away from the red.

 He let the warm water wash away the stress and tears, then changed into the softest pajamas he had in his backpack and after brushing his teeth, he got underneath the blankets on the top bunk. He curled his legs up to his chest and wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders. If he thought hard enough, he could almost make himself believe it was like a hug. Almost. He faced the wall and listened to the sound of Ned brushing his teeth in the bathroom across the hall. Peter closed his eyes, content to just listen.

He felt guilty, he’d caused extra stress on everyone. The family had taken him in and now he was being a burden. He’d thrown up. Left a mess of the soup that been painstakingly made for him, all over the dining room floor. He took a shaky breath, not wanting to work himself up all over again. Ned didn’t need to hear that. May would be angry. How dare he be so ungrateful? Peter shook the thoughts away, choosing to deal with that later. Now, he was far to exhausted to do anything but cry if he were to get back into that can of worms. Peter wrapped the edge of the blanket around his fist and gently brushed it across his cheek in an attempt to self-soothe.

He listened as Ned opened and shut drawers when he the boy walked into the bedroom.  It was easy to focus on that rather than the swirling thoughts rushing around in his brain. 

Ned cleared his throat as if to say something and then thought better of it. He closed the bedroom door encasing the bedroom in darkness. Ned padded across the floor and climbed into the bottom bunk, the creaks of bed loud in the otherwise silent room.

“…hey, Peter?”

Ned whispered from below.

Peter hummed in question, hoping Ned wasn’t hoping for a full-blown conversation right now. Ned was silent for a moment, then spoke into the darkness.

“You know you’re still my best friend… right? No matter what?”

Peter said nothing.

“I know it’s been like… super hard for you these past two weeks, month even… but. I just--” he cut himself off with a sigh.

“I… just. I hope you know that. And that… It’s going to be okay... In the end.” 

“…I know.” 

Peter replied quietly. But he had a hard time believing himself. In what possible way could anything ever be okay again?

“Do you though?” Ned asked rhetorically.

Peter didn’t reply.

“You know what May did to you was wrong… right? She had no right to… to hurt you. Like she did. Ever. I—I can’t even stand the thought of what happened. For weeks it went on and we had no idea. It took a _fucking bat_ to—” Ned cut himself off again with a shaky breath. Peter had never heard Ned curse like that before and he didn’t like it. Ned was… hurting because of him.

“I’m sorry…” Peter rasped to the wall.

“Please don’t apologize, Peter. It—that’s not what I’m trying to do here.” Ned said exasperatedly.

“And what _are_ you trying to do here, Ned?” Peter asked with a flash of irritation.

“I don’t know. Convince you? Tell you it wasn’t your fault? Anything to… make it go away for you.” Ned sat up in his bed, tossing his legs over the side and rubbing his hands down his face like he was an exhausted old man.

 “I just want to help, Peter. You—you freaked out over _soup_. You freaked _me_ out. I was terrified… for you. Ya know? We almost had to call an ambulance for you.”

Peter frowned to the wall in concern, he hadn’t even realized his friend had been there the whole time.

“I just… you’re like a brother to me, Pete. I couldn’t—can’t stand it, that something so awful happened to you.”

Ned went quiet and Peter digested the words.

“... Why?” was all Peter could manage, just one word fit his disbelief so well.

“Um, I don’t know, maybe because I’ve known you since we were like twelve? We’ve been together through everything Pete, why wouldn’t I care?”

Peter trapped those words in his mind. How could he doubt his best friend? Ned was right, they had been together through thick and thin. Ned laid back down on his bed and brought his blanket over his shoulder.

“Well, anyway, I hope you know that I care about you. A lot. And I know I’m not that strong or anything, not compared to you, but… I’ll protect you. I promise.”

Peter was blown away by how much of a compassionate and amazing friend Ned was.

“…Thank you, Ned.” He whispered, bringing the red fleece back to his cheek. He let the softness of the blanket and the softness of his friend’s words lull him to sleep.

“Of course, Pete. Anytime.” 

The other boy replied before he too, was lost to sleep.

 

 

* * *

 

*NOTE:

I made Ned’s family Hawaiian because the actor is Hawaiian. In the comics he is not Hawaiian. He is a white blonde guy who works for The Daily Bugal named Edward Leeds. I gave his sister an English name because Edward is an English name and as a parent why would you name one child in English and not the other? (Yes I know this happens, it literally happened to me.) It was a ‘creative’ choice for me to make the rest of them from Hawaii. I do not speak Hawaiian, obviously. I got the words from google translate then hoped for the best. Probably not used correctly but I’m not Hawaiian so I wouldn’t know. According to google however, these are the translations:

Keiki: Child

Pēpē: Baby

Also: Has anyone noticed that I have not once, allowed Peter to curse? I’m trying to… uphold his character as… pure? Idk, fun fact I suppose, but probably only to me. 


	19. The Shift

Chapter 19- The Shift

 

Peter groggily blinked his eyes open the next morning from the best sleep he’d had in months, no nightmares, not even dreams, just peace. He climbed down carefully, making sure not to hit his cast on the way down the ladder. The room was quiet, and the only noise came from the clinking of the ceiling fan as it lazily spun. Ned was nowhere in sight.

Although, it wasn’t odd, necessarily, that Ned wouldn’t be in the room in the morning—considering he’d usually be at school by this time—but Peter still felt slightly uneasy. He wondered if all this time off would negatively affect his grades and hoped he wouldn’t be held back. He pushed the thought away, there was always summer school.

 He shuffled into the hallway bathroom rising his toothbrush under the faucet. He scanned the countertop and found the only toothpaste left. It was Ned’s sisters. Watermelon flavored and littered with edible sparkles which was supposed to entice little kids into brushing their teeth more often. Peter wondered how this could possibly clean anyone’s teeth, but Ned had used the last of the mint toothpaste last night and he didn’t have any other options. He sighed and began to brush his teeth. Watching himself in the mirror, he paused, the plastic toothbrush halting mid-scrub.

He’d never noticed how … thin… he looked. He’d never been able to see his cheekbones this clearly before. It was… chilling. But also, somehow satisfying, he was on the right track. He could see the effect of the self-induced punishment of refusing himself any food and was struck with pride that he was carrying on May’s work efficiently. He didn’t think she’d be proud, necessarily, but pleased that at least some headway was being made while she was gone.

He hoped that by continuing her work, she would finally see past his flaws, at least a little bit, and see that he was doing his best to right himself. He hoped that would be enough. Peter wondered when he’d see her next. When they’d reunite. He hoped he’d be able to show her the progress he’d made.

He spit the green sparkling foam out and rinsed his mouth feeling like he’d eaten candy, due to the intense sweetness of the paste, instead of practiced general hygiene. Ignoring it for now, he walked down the staircase, passing Ava sitting on the couch watching cartoons. He frowned, shouldn’t she be at school? Wasn’t that the law?

“Hey, Ava?” he questioned, before sitting on the comfortable couch on the beige pillows across from her. He watched the tv for a moment, attempting to figure out what she was watching before giving up and looking at her.

She turned to him, munching her sugary cereal.

“Shouldn’t you be at school?”

She swallowed and thought for a moment.

“Shouldn’t you?” she asked uncharacteristically sassy for this early in the day.

Peter grimaced, it looks like she wasn’t in the best mood today. She looked down at her cereal and took a bite.

“Besides,” she said, turning back to the tv. “It’s Saturday.”

Peter blinked. Saturday? Already? 

“Mommy was looking for you in the kitchen.” She continued.

He sat for a moment, sinking back in the cushions to think. Talk to him? About what? He began to get nervous. What if she wanted him to leave? What if his ‘episode’ yesterday was the tipping point and they all realized it was too hard to take care of him? Ava looked at him curiously.

“Are you gonna watch Disney with me?” she asked suddenly.

“Uh. No.” he replied quickly and stood up off the couch.  Whatever cartoon was on was not interesting him enough to sit down and watch. It was actually borderline cringe-worthy with the amount of mainstream jokes they tried to cram into each scene.

He walked quietly into the large kitchen and his eyes widened in shock. There, at the kitchen table, drinking black coffee, was Tony Stark himself.  The man was talking to Ms. Leeds in a hushed voice and they didn’t seem to have noticed that he’d come in.

“Mr. Stark! What—What are you doing here?”

Mr. Stark jumped, his coffee almost spilling as he took a sip.

“Oh—Kid! You scared the shit out of me!”

He grabbed a napkin and mopped up the drops that had managed to escape.

“Sorry.” Peter replied.

Mr. Stark shook his head in exasperation and sighed deeply, he frowned as he studied Peter. The boy looked pale and extremely thin.

“Hey, kid. How’ve you been? ...You sick again?”

Sick? Peter shook his head from the doorway. Mr. Stark didn’t look convinced but dropped it, the older man looked exhausted.

“Have you seen the news lately, Pete?”

Peter shook his head again. Tony sighed and set his cup down on the island. He made a ‘come here’ motion with his hand and Peter complied, sitting on the bar stool next to him. Ms. Leeds took this as her leave and closed the kitchen door behind her, so they could have some privacy.

“Peter—” He cut himself off to gather his thoughts. 

Peter looked at him with curiosity, Mr. Stark looked stressed. The man wiped his hands down his face again.

“Peter,” he began again, “The trial is on Monday.”

Peter looked at him, confused, but said nothing.

“And they want you to testify.”

Tony watched him carefully for some kind of reaction. If Peter went to the courtroom… he’d be able to see May and Tony was not going to allow that to happen. He’d protect the kid with his life, even if it was from his family.

Peter studied the countertop. He couldn’t rat out May again. Especially not in the courtroom where it would matter. He could lie like he did to the police… but he didn’t think Tony would be too happy with him, not when Peter already spilled everything a week ago, albeit accidently. He’d never forgive himself for it and he doubted May would either. And really, May’s forgiveness was key. If she forgave him— for Spiderman, for telling, for being a disgusting mutant, for _Ben_ —then everything could go back to normal.

Peter looked worried and Tony was relieved. Perhaps the kid was finally understanding what happened to him and he—although Tony’s heart ached for it—was afraid of seeing his abusive Aunt again, as he rightfully should be.

 “But I have my best lawyers on it.” He reassured, “I am not letting you anywhere _near_ that court room.”

Peter looked relieved. Tony nodded to himself, he’d done the right thing. 

Thank goodness, Peter thought, he wouldn’t have to go. This was good. He wouldn’t have to speak bad about her in front of so many people and as long as he wasn’t in the courtroom, there would be no truth to what was being said by Tony’s lawyers. May could be freed and they could go on the path of healing their relationship.

 “And,” Tony continued. “Although the official guardianship paperwork is still being worked on, I do have official temporary guardianship over you as of—” he looked at his watch for dramatic effect.

“now.” He said turning back to a confused Peter.  “So. You ready to go home, Pete?”

Peter blinked. “Home?”

Tony and Peter suddenly spoke at once.

“The Compound.”

“Queens?”

Tony frowned.

“Queens? Kid, no. I—” Tony cleared his throat awkwardly. Then looked at him firmly. Apparently, Peter still didn’t get it. Maybe some tough love would get it drilled into his mind. It worked when Tony was younger—when his therapist had to straighten out his thinking because Tony was in denial of his parent’s deaths. The man had taken him by the shoulders and firmly told him his parents were never coming back and he had to deal with it. And he did. Maybe Peter needed the same.

“I need you to understand, Peter. Because it seems like you’re just not getting it.”

Peter was slightly taken aback. Mr. Stark looked seconds away from losing his cool.

“Okay, look at me.” He said when Peter had averted his gaze to the countertop again. The boy looked back at the older man. Tony held onto his shoulders to keep him from looking away. Peter flinched.

“You are not going back to that apartment. Ever. Do you understand me? You’re not gonna see May. I won’t allow it. I don’t fucking _care_ , that she’s your aunt, Peter. Get it? You _will not_ see that woman again. Not a phone call, not in court, not visiting rights in _jail_.”

Peter pulled away harshly and stood up defensively.

“You can’t stop me.” He replied angrily.

“I can, and I will.”

The older man replied firmly. This was _bullshit_. Peter wasn’t going to listen anymore. He had a _right_ to see May, he might have been an awful nephew but they were still family. She was there for him when his parents died, took him in and didn’t let him go into foster care, who was there at every school meeting and dried his tears when he was sad. So what, she found out his secrets and so she had to resort to harsher punishments, he deserved what he got. He lied for a year, he’d _killed_. It was only right.

  He left the kitchen slamming the kitchen door behind him, watching his strength only so he didn’t break it, but enough to show that he was angry. Tony wanted to pull his hair out. He stressfully rubbed his temples before calling out.

“I hope you’re packing!”

“Whatever!” Peter called back. Peter stalked past Ava who’d finished her cereal and looked up when he’d passed.

“Did you get in trouble, Peter?” she asked.

Peter ignored her in favor of angrily walking up the stairs and into Ned’s room. He packed up his stuff into his school bag after changing out of his pajamas. It was chilly out today, so he slipped on his *red sweater, it was frustratingly difficult to get his cast through the sleeve. He tucked his shoe laces into the sides of his sneakers, he wasn’t about to ask anyone to ties his shoes. He walked down the steps after shouldering his bag on his non-broken arm.

Mr. Stark was waiting for him at the bottom of the steps. The man sighed, seemingly no longer angry with him but still just as stressed.  

“Ready?” Tony asked him as he reached the last step.

Peter said nothing defiantly and crossed his arms. Tony ignored this and began to walk out the front door and Peter followed.

“Bye Petey!” called Ava from the couch.

“Bye…” Peter replied with a small wave.

Ned’s mother watched from the hallway with a sad smile on her face. She knew Tony was right, but Peter would figure it out soon enough. She walked up to him.

“You stay safe ok, keiki? And if you need anything, you call. Our door is always open to you, Peter. You come anytime you like. I’ll tell Ned you said goodbye ok?”

Peter nodded and looked to the floor solemnly. She pet his cheek motheringly then allowed him to leave. She stood in the doorway and watched protectively until he got into the expensive car of Tony’s chauffer and closed the door behind her, satisfied that he would be okay.

Peter got into the car and shut the door putting on his seatbelt. He looked out the window and ignored the billionaire sitting next to him. Happy pulled out of the driveway and began the two hour journey towards the Avenger’s compound.

Peter sighed and put in his earphones turning on the first song he found. It was a soft melody that helped him to further calm his ebbing anger. Mr. Stark looked at him from the corner of his eye before turning to his own phone. He regretted yelling at the boy earlier, Peter didn’t respond well to it, not like he had. Tony wondered if a softer approach would work better, an experiment he was much more willing to test. He was after all, the kid’s new guardian and Peter had had enough tough love from May to last a lifetime. Tony couldn’t stand the thought of his behavior towards the boy of being even close to her or his own father.  

They got to the compound in record time a Tony looked over to the boy who’d been suspiciously quiet the entire ride to find that he’d fallen asleep leaned against the car window. Tony reached over and tapped his shoulder.  

“Hey, Pete. We’re here.”

Peter groaned before waking up and stretching. He looked blearily towards Tony who chuckled at the childishness of it.

“Come on.” He said and got out of the car. Happy got out of the driver’s seat and opened Peter’s door impatiently after the boy took too long to respond. Happy reached in and unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Hey, I can do it!” Peter huffed before getting out of the vehicle. Happy rolled his eyes.

“I got places to be, kid.”

Peter put his bag back on and looked to Tony. The man had been watching the exchange with mirth in his eyes. Peter looked at the sidewalk slightly embarrassed for acting like a child. Mr. Stark led him into the building and Happy got back into the car taking it to the garage.

“Welcome back, Mr. Parker.” Said FRIDAY, her Scottish accent coming ominously from the ceiling.

“Hi, FRIDAY.” He greeted back.

“What, no welcome for me?” complained Mr. Stark jokingly.

 He glanced at Peter who cracked a smile. Tony smiled victoriously. Point one for Tony and zero for May.

“Welcome back, sir.” FRIDAY chimed.

“That’s more like it.” Tony replied.

Peter followed the billionaire to the elevator and they waited in content silence until they reached their floor. The doors opened with a ding and let them out on the common floor. This is where the Avengers hang out, Peter thought in awe. Currently, it held no Avengers as they were all busy, but he still remained star struck by the possibility of having been in their presence once again. There was a small seating area with yellow couches and a much larger area with bright red couches, contrasting to the mostly grey industrial makeup of the room. In the corner, there was a meeting area. Peter imagined this was where the Avengers went over their debriefing. There was also a large kitchen that followed the same industrial décor as the rest of the floor with vinyl and stainless-steel cabinets that Peter could never dream of being able to afford. Past this was a stair case leading to all the bedrooms. The doors were all closed and Peter had the sudden awful feeling of being out of place.

The compound felt cold and unfamiliar. Sure, he’d come to visit a couple of times. He’d been there the other day, but it wasn’t the same. Now, he had to live there because he had no where else to go. Tony opened the door to his room, a new, more permanent location across from Wanda and next door to Vision and Clint.

“This is your room.”

Peter frowned.

“My room?”

Why had he been moved? Before, he had a room on the floor below, although, it hadn’t really been his room, more of a guest room.

“Thought you’d like it better if we moved you up here near us.”

Peter nodded.

“I’ll be just down the hall, call if you need me. Dinner will be at seven and the gang’s all gonna be here. So… ya know. Shower, maybe?”

Tony said, unceremoniously. He was sure the kid would be fine while he went and finished up some paperwork with Pepper and the kid might benefit from some time alone to sort out his thoughts. He hoped he was doing the right thing.

Peter felt the sudden need to turn and cling to Tony. To not let the man leave him alone in this unfamiliar place. But he didn’t. Instead he nodded and stepped into the unfamiliar room.

“Seven. Remember.” Tony said and closed the door.

Peter stood in the middle of his room, unsure of what to do next. He dropped his bag on the ground and studied his room. The walls and floor were still cold concrete like the rest of the building. There was a simple modern dresser in one corner and a desk on the other. A large rug covered the floor and a rather large bed occupied the rest of the space. The sheets were blue and a soft red blanket rested on top, the colors alluding to his suit courteous of Mr. Stark’s humor.

But on top of the bed by the pillows was something Peter thought he’d never see again. Big button eyes stared back at him. He shakily reached for the object and hugged it. The bear had been restored, covered in patches and amateur hand stitching. One of the bear’s arms was actually missing but Peter didn’t care. Whoever had done this, had done their best and it was perfect in his eyes. A card sat next to it, and Peter sat down on the edge of the bed to read it. The card had no design and only had a couple sentences of writing on it, clearly written by different people in different colored inks. The people who’d been responsible for putting the stuffed animal back together, albeit sloppily.

_Thought you might need this back.  -T_

_You’re welcome. -MJ_

_Hope you feel better! :D -Ned_

And a single signature with no message from someone he’d never expected.

_-Eugene_

 

*see Civil War end credit scene for this sweater. At least I think it’s a sweater, I studied it and now I’m not sure. Could be a long sleeve shirt idk. It says Mathletes on it lmao. Usually I picture him in his blue one but I suddenly remembered the red one and I thought he needed a change.

*Eugene Thompson is Flash’s real name.

*The “results” of the “polls” were:

-Self-harm: Only slightly. No cutting however, he’s gonna do other stuff, like starving himself and overall negligence of his health. Maybe he’ll touch a hot stove on purpose or sit in a way too hot shower or something idk yet.

-Teddy Bear: Yes, I was leaning towards bringing it back because I do think it was a good way to cope for him in the beginning and everyone (including me) was sad to see it go. I know some people didn’t want to see it back because they saw it as a symbol of his past but I think it will help him. See, the bear was given to him by his parent- a symbol of their care for him, then Tony & friends gave it to him, it becomes a symbol of their care for him? Right?

-Mental Regression: Again, only slightly. We’re definitely not going hard core, that’s not what this story is about. But, he’ll display some childish tendencies such as clingy-ness, being over emotional, finding comfort in childish things such as the bear, and maybe due to his nightmares we can give him a nightlight. IDK.

Tell me your thoughts I loved to read what you all thought of my Author’s note thing.


	20. its me again, go ahead and be disappointed.

Hello and welcome back to this story,

it's been months since i updated it and i'm sorry for that. I've been busy with school, work, and my health. I have recently found out that there is a very strong possibility for me having ASD or what used to be known as Aspergers. Now, I can see a lot of this in Peter's behaviors and the way he speaks within this story, thats why im telling you this. Particularly, how shy he is and how often ive made him cry. :/

This used to be longer but i edited it to make it relevant again. 

see ya!


	21. The Sit-down Dinner

CHAPTER 20:The Sit-down Dinner

Peter was in awe. Flash of all people had basically apologized. He picked up the bear and hugged it. It was the same bear all patched up out of the love of his friends. He wasn’t alone, he had people who cared about him. Surely, this was proof of that. He set it down on the bed suddenly feeling a bit more hopeful. This would turn out okay.

Peter checked the time on a wall clock, it was just six o’clock, another hour until dinner with earth’s mightiest heroes. He suddenly felt nervous. One, this wasn’t just an ordinary dinner, no sir. This was dinner with The Avengers! And two, he remembered as his stomach growled, he wasn’t supposed to be eating. May would not be happy with him if he did. He didn’t think he could even manage eating even a bite in front of them.  He decided he would probably think better after a hot shower.

Once he was dressed somewhat presentably, he combed his hair and thought. He could hide his food in a napkin. But… everyone would be watching him, he was new at the table. And even if they weren’t, there were eleven other people at the table. That meant twenty-two eyes. Which meant there was always at least one person glancing over at him. So that plan was out. Suddenly, he had an idea and his eyes lit up. 

He would eat. Then after, he’d politely excuse himself to the restroom and… remove it. He’d heard of this before, of course, there was even talk about a couple of girls getting together to form an almost cult where they would go to the restroom and puke together, keeping each other motivated and thin. This didn’t last long though as they were caught and sent straight to therapy, but Peter would make 100% sure that no one would ever know. It’d his and May’s little secret.

* * *

 

He made sure he looked decent and sat down on his bed, reading the notifications on his phone until FRIDAY announced that it was time for dinner and Mr. Stark was requesting him. He swallowed and prepared himself.

He walked down the flight of stairs and then made his way through the narrow hallway out to the formal dinning room. Peter couldn’t help but gasp when he walked in. At the table sat War Machine, The Falcon, Hawkeye, Captain America, Black Widow, Mr. Stark- of course, that guy with the metal arm from Germany who sat a way away from Tony, a man Peter didn’t recognize, Scarlet Witch and The Vision. All wearing normal clothes and passing each other forks before they began reaching for the food. Talking loudly and laughing like a family. Peter suddenly felt like an intruder.

“Peter! Glad you could make it.” Said Mr. Stark. Everyone settled down quickly at that and turned to face the boy who’d walked in. Peters blushed, nervous that all the attention was suddenly on him.

“Peter, this is everyone. Well, almost. Everyone, this is Peter. He’s gonna stay here a while.” Announced Tony. Peter waved weakly. And the table abruptly burst into noise. People began talking over each other. Asking Tony questions, asking Peter questions. Peter’s face warped into panic and he looked at the billionaire for reassurance. The man beckoned him over and pushed out the chair closest to him. Tony didn’t look fazed by the shitstorm he’d caused but Peter held his hands over his ears, watching as his mentor waited for everyone to stop yelling.

The group finally calmed and Peter took his hands off his ears. Steve spoke up first.

“Please tell me you didn’t kidnap a kid. I swear to god, Tony- “But Tony butted in.

 “No, I didn’t kidnap a kid, he’s here legally. What do you think I am, Rodgers? Shit. Is that what you think of me?”

Captain America looked abashed. “No of course not Tony, I just cannot think of any other possible reason anyone would willingly leave their child with you…. No offense.”

“What he’s trying to say is, that you’re not exactly the fatherly type, Tone.” War Machine interrupted.

“But this isn’t just any kid, guys, this is- “

 “-my intern.” Said Tony.

 “-Spiderman.” Spoke up Peter at the same time.  Silence.

Tony groaned and rubbed his hand over his face.

“Damn it, kid. I have no idea how you kept your identity hidden for so long. Seriously.” He said rubbing his eyes.

Peter shrank back in his seat and stared at his empty plate. The table exploded with people yelling at Tony for bringing a child to a fight. For allowing Peter to continue at all. For bringing him to the compound. Some even yelling at Peter, telling him off for being vigilante when he wasn’t even old enough to drive. Peter covered his sensitive ears again and his face burned in shame. No longer was it just May who was angry with him, but the entirety of the Avengers. How had he messed up this badly?

When Tony caught the angry words suddenly being directed at Peter who’d taken to cowering in his chair, he snapped.

“HEY!” He barked. Everyone went quiet at the outburst, confused.

  “Don’t you _dare_ yell at him! He’s my responsibility and that’s that! I don’t have to explain _shit_ to you, it’s literally none of your business why he’s here. At all. You either accept it and eat or you leave the compound. I don’t want to hear any one of you talking to my kid like that again. As for Germany, that was a mistake. My judgment was clouded and I’m never putting him or anyone else between us like that again. He’s a kid, he didn’t know what we were even fighting about. So, leave him alone. You have questions? You go through me.” He seethed.

The table was quiet as everyone processed the words. Then awkwardly began to eat again. Tony tapped the boy on the shoulder to get his attention.

“Hey, don’t listen to them. I’ve got it handled.”

Peter nodded gratefully.

“Eat something.” He said placing a roll of the kid’s plate. Peter complied and took a nibble of the bread.

The silence was cut by the clinking of silver wear.

“I for one, think it’s nice to meet you, Peter.” Said Nat cutting into her slice of roast beef.

Peter nodded, “It’s nice to meet you as well, Ms. Black Widow.” She smiled and winked at him from down the table.

 The rest of the Avengers took the time to express their sentiments as well. And the table continued as if nothing had split them apart. Continuing to talk and slowly the chatter morphed into something more comfortable and relaxed. Smiles and laughter returned. And Peter lost track of how much he was eating.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short, but I wanted Peter to meet the crew. The guy he doesn't recognize is Ant Man, because the last time he saw him the guy was 50ft tall and wearing a whole costume. Also, Bruce and Thor are not there, they're on that trash planet. I tried to get the storyline straight but its difficult because ive omitted Infinity war but made the rogue avengers come back? I wanted interactions with them all. Also Bruce and Thor may make an appearance, we'll see.


	22. its me again, go ahead and be disappointed. pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HI ignore me if youre not here to help i guess.

Hey friends, so many authors notes, but i love talking to you all. I only seem to do it when I have issues with progress, sorry.   
Eh, but continuing on, I love you guys and I would love to finish this story and I will! Dont worry! I just, see the problem now is, Peters depressed and anxious and really struggling right? But how do I get him out of it? I would love to end this story with his recovery but how do I write a recovery when ive never recoved myself? I dont want it to sound...plasticy, and fake and unrealistic. Help? Maybe?


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